


Boyfriend Project

by lucianowriter



Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, F/F, F/M, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fluff and Angst, Homophobia comes from Patrick's boss, Implied Homophobia from David's clients, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, M/M, Patrick and David are both idiots
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-24
Updated: 2021-03-10
Packaged: 2021-03-16 21:34:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 22,914
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28963254
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lucianowriter/pseuds/lucianowriter
Summary: David is the infamous son of Moira Rose, former TV star. He used to live for the spotlight, but these days he wished things were a bit quieter -- in fact, his job is banking on it. So when the paparazzi catch him in a not so respectable position outside of a gay club it blows up on the internet and in his face. His boss has one request: shape up and get important donors back or look for a new job.This is when David hatches a plan. What if he were to find a clean-cut, respectable boyfriend to take as his plus one to the benefit? His boss couldn't possibly fire him then. Enter, Patrick Brewer the criminal defense attorney who is also in need of a spruced-up social life -- but for different reasons.ORThe Boyfriend Material AU that I was desperate to write. (Seriously if you haven't read this book you need to!)
Relationships: Patrick Brewer/David Rose, Stevie Budd/Alexis Rose, Twyla Sands/Mutt Schitt
Comments: 61
Kudos: 97





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> First and foremost I need to thank T. She suggested this book on her Twitter feed. Then once I read the book I came to her with an idea to put the plot to David and Patrick. I truly expected her to say that was crazy and just not doable, but instead, she freaked out and became overly excited about this idea. And so, this fic was born. 
> 
> So of course I owe a lot of the story idea of this fic to the base story from the book Boyfriend Material by Alexis Hall. 
> 
> I haven't been this excited for a fic idea since I wrote Confusion over a year ago. I am not sure how many chapters it will be but you can expect lots and lots of silly pining that could be easily solved if the boys talk to each other. There will also be kissing but they have to work up to that, lol.
> 
> Anyway, thank you all for the support and enjoy the ride!

For some reason, I had decided that the best place for me to be on a Saturday night was at Mitch’s costume party at a club in SoHo. It combined the things I hated most: large crowds, large costumed crowds, club music, and most of all Mitch Grimball. I’m only here because my friend group forced it on me through guilt-laden messages in our text chain and because I have a death wish — apparently. 

The music is almost bearable, once I drink at least 3 vodkas. I pulled out my phone to let my friends know I had arrived — 2 hours late — only to find that of course my phone couldn’t possibly find a signal in this dump. I closed my eyes and took another swig of alcohol. This used to be my scene, but the glamour of fame has lost its shine many years ago.

Ending up in the tabloids isn’t really as fun as my mom always made it out to be when I was growing up. She’d get a horrible picture taken of her and the worst they said of her was that she was still chasing the spotlight even though hers had died. But I get a bad photo taken of me and the tabloids go nuts questioning whether or not I’m sober or worse stable. Fuck Sebastien Raine and his vitriolic lies that everyone took as truth.

Five years later, I’ve decided to stop fighting it. Instead, I spend my days avoiding any kind of situation that could result in a scandalous photo. Especially since the job I currently have are the only people who would hire me. If I were to get any bad press I’d lose this job and I’d be shit up a creek.

So when a very attractive man approached me at the bar I promptly ignored him. A pretty face can only get you so far and the prettier they are the more likely they are to sell you out to stay “beautiful” in the eyes of everyone. Beautiful people tear other people down to make it out on top. I should know, I used to care about that shit — it’s how I was raised. I honestly hope that by ignoring him he will move on, but of course, I can’t ever be that lucky.

“You do realize it’s a costume party, right?” He reached out and tweaked my wire cat ear headband. That was the wrong thing to do.

“What are you doing?” I give him a glare that would cause most men and women to slink off, but not this man.

“I would’ve thought it would be obvious.” He shot what I would assume he believed to be a flirty smirk my way. 

“Ahh yes, I must’ve missed the memo about how insults and physical assaults are now seen as sexy.” Most people would’ve definitely taken my statement as a free pass to fuck off, but not this guy. Jesus.

“My friend says that you’re David Rose.”

“Oh really? Thank you for reminding me. The alcohol had quite muddled my brain, I wasn’t sure anymore.” I tried one more time to get this man to leave me to my wallowing in the shadows in peace.

“My friend also says you’re an asshole and not worth my time.” He inched a bit closer to me and I moved an inch or two further away.

“It’s a shame you didn’t listen to them. Could’ve saved you so much time.” I finally looked at him and I’ll give it to the man, he is handsome with his dark floppy hair and winning smile, but that makes me even more anxious for him to leave. 

“I love a challenge. So let’s get to know each other. My name is Ryan. I’m a writer. Now it’s your turn.” He leaned closer to my face and I could smell the whiskey on his breath. The smell made my stomach churn almost as much as his words did.

He was a writer which meant he had access to make my life hell. More access than Sebastien did and look where that ended up. I had to get away — as soon as possible. I couldn’t give him anything he could run off to the media about. But I also couldn’t run, I had promised my friends I would at least try tonight. 

I plastered on my fakest smile and I replied, “well you already know my name. That definitely deserves a reward I think.”

“I can’t reward you for nothing. What is your favorite color?” He took the bait and moved his hands to my arms and positioned himself to be easy access for further physical contact.

“Black.” I lean forward and steal a kiss. 

“Hey!” He pulled away before the kiss could be anything further than chaste. “That’s not enough for a kiss. What’s your favorite food?”

I think back to a few listicles made about me and I go for the safest answer. “Pizza or salad but never together.”

He leaned into me this time and our kiss deepened a bit more than the last, but not nearly enough to be considered “making out.”

“Where do you work?”

“A charity.” It’s better I keep the nature of the charity under wraps, I had found in the last five minutes that kissing this guy was actually rather fun. And if I played my cards right I may get to go home with him.

We kissed again, this time our hands moved to explore other parts of our body. But then he asked a question that made my blood run cold and panic set in.

“What’s the craziest place you’ve ever had sex?”

I shoved him off of me and glared daggers at him. “Of course, once I answer you can run to your boss and tell them ‘You’ll never believe what David Rose told me!’ Then a whole article will show up and we can all have fun getting to know Moira’s messed up son.” 

“Dude! My friend was right! So not worth it!” And then he was gone, disappeared into the crowd and once my panic subsided I felt like a colossal ass. I needed to get out before anything else could ruin my night.

Of course, I hadn’t counted on my balance being a bit off from all the drinks I consumed. I wasn’t drunk, but I was tipsy and my equilibrium was way off. I stepped onto the sidewalk and moved forward to hail a cab, but I caught my feet up in themselves and fell over onto the pavement. With the flash of a bulb, I knew I’d been caught and my night was officially ruined. I thought that maybe this time the photo wouldn’t be that bad, but I was dead wrong. 

  
  


The next morning my ringing phone woke me up. I groaned as I reached for it. My hand missed, knocking it to the ground. That’s when it stopped ringing but I was up already so I got out of bed to find it in the mess of clothes on my floor. I normally take delicate care of my sweaters, but the rest always ends up thrown about wherever. I find my phone inside my pair of Rick Owens high tops that I had tied off before collapsing in bed the previous night.

I grab the phone and dive back into my bed. It was Sunday, which meant I didn’t have to be anywhere. Being under the covers comforted me as I read the notification I had hoped wouldn’t be there — a new David Rose article on the internet. Fuck. I clicked the link and was immediately taken to a reputable gossip rag’s website where my ass was sprawled across the top of the page. 

The paparazzi who had snapped the photo must have also seen that I tripped on my own feet not that I was trashed out, but of course, that doesn’t sell so lies it is. I groaned and punched my pillow at the sight of what they did write.

**_Moira Rose’s gay son coked out of his mind outside a gay club._ **

I haven’t touched coke since my early twenties, but nevermind that because anyone who saw this would believe it. Well, anyone except for Twyla, Stevie, Mutt, and my sister Alexis. Unfortunately, none of them was my boss which is my real concern. My job was precarious enough I didn’t need this shot pushing me closer to the exit.

I shut off the web page and saw that my phone had rung because my mother had called me. She was always able to cheer me up, so I immediately hit the redial. She answered on the second ring.

“Daaaaaaavid.” She trilled out in her accent — a cross somewhere between Irish and British with a mix of Southern. Basically, she made it up to make her sound more sophisticated.

“Hey mom,” I mumbled as I buried my head further into my pillow.

“David. Why didn’t you answer? Were you intoxicated due to an imbibing of alcoholic sustenance?” Her enunciation almost made me laugh — almost. However, it had been how she talked my whole life so I wasn’t really thrown by it anymore.

“No. I was sleeping. You know that thing people sometimes do on the weekend when they work during the week.” I rolled my eyes knowing full well she couldn’t see me.

“There’s no need to be discourteous, David. I was just concerned for my child’s well-being. I worry about you.” 

“Well, I’m fine. Despite what the tabloids might think, I’m not a drunken, coked-out mess.”

“Darling, you really shouldn’t read what they write about you! It’s never true. Well, it’s never completely true.” Moira tried her best at motherly advice, but as usual, it lacked any real depth. I knew my mother loved me. She just wasn’t the deeply affectionate type.

“Yeah, easy for you to say. They never take your night out and twist it in the worst possible way.” I grouse some more, wallowing in self-pity has always been my strong suit.

“Well, maybe don’t give them a reason to twist things. Besides, I doubt it’s all that bad. Like always this will blow over and the day will dawn anew.” Moira’s words were so flowery I just knew she was dramatically posing on her end of the call.

“So, why’d you call me so urgently on a Sunday, mom.” I decided it was time to bite the bullet and find out what she wanted from me.

“Your father.” She put it shortly, I waited a bit expecting her to elaborate and she didn’t.

“Care to elaborate?”

“He has a function coming up in six weeks that he would love you to attend.” My mother’s words are well-rehearsed and tentative. 

“Then why didn’t he ask me himself? Is it really that hard for him to talk to me?” I wanted to yell, but I knew it wasn’t my mother’s fault. My father and I just never saw eye to eye. He was a famous entrepreneurial type and I was, well I was me. We just never knew how to talk to one another.

“Please, David. It would mean the world to him if you would come. Alexis has already gladly accepted his invite.” Her words manage to work themselves into my heart and I give in.

“Ok. Fine. But don’t expect me to speak or do pictures. None of that. I’ll just be there.” 

“Thank you, David.”

We hung up not long after that with a tentative plan for me to come over to her place on the Upper West Side within the week. She really wanted me to watch some kind of singing competition with her and try out her enchilada recipe — which I already knew was going to be a disaster. However, I always did it because my mom was my biggest supporter and she never let my mistakes cloud how much she loved me. When I came out to her and dad she just took my boyfriend and girlfriend into her sitting room and offered them sherry and an elaborate tale of intrigue about some film she did once. Moira Rose was the one person I could implicitly trust in this world because when Sebastien did what he did she was the one to pick me back up.

I spent the rest of my Sunday vegging out in my bed and ordering food delivery. I only came out of my cocoon to grab food and drink. Then it was back under the covers for hours upon hours of the  _ The Great British Bake Off _ . About midday I was rudely interrupted by my friends texting me. Someone — probably Stevie — had changed the group chat name to “Only the Lonely Gays”.

**David! David! David!**

_ Jesus, Alexis let him respond before you yell at him. _

**_Twy, Alexis is just worried because he didn’t show up last night like he said he would._ **

_ Did you ever think that maybe I did but couldn’t find you guys? _

**_Wow! He is alive!_ **

**Stevie, be nice to my brother he’s probably hungover. Or still drunk.**

(Ok. So clearly my friends think as highly of me as the tabloids do.)

I told you he probably saw the article. 

_ Mutt, we said we weren’t going to mention that!  _

_ Thanks for the thought, Twyla. Unfortunately, I saw it and I’m fine. Currently relaxing and tomorrow I’ll go to work and try to ensure our fundraiser goes off without a hitch. _

**_If you don’t get fired._ **

**Really Ste? REALLY?!**

**_What!? he knows it’s a possibility. Wendy threatened him the last time a tabloid article surfaced that if it happened again his job could be in jeopardy._ **

_ So thankful for all the support guys. I’m sure it’s fine. She probably didn’t even see it. _

Yeah and I’m not really an undercover cop.

**Okay. Let’s all agree that we will table this discussion until it becomes a problem that needs to be solved.**

_ Yes, Alexis. I agree. Meanwhile, my boss just texted to tell me that the latest book shipment has somehow ended up in the Bronx when it should be in Brooklyn. I gotta go!  _

_ And I have some serious work to do so bye! _

**David. Eating and** **_The Great British Bake Off_ ** **are not work.**

_ Fuck off Alexis. _

**_Oh this is gonna be fun._ **

**Enough Stevie. Stop goading him.**

With that, we all signed off and I threw my phone across my bed. I was not going to look at it again until my alarm went off Monday morning.

  
  


On Monday morning I was accosted in the coffee room by none other than Ray Butani. I really need about three cups of coffee before dealing with him — mostly because our office coffee is that terrible. However, today I was only on cup number one when he caught me. I mentally braced myself and opened my mouth to tell him a joke I knew he wouldn’t get the punch line of.

“Morning Mr. Rose!” Ray exclaimed the minute he saw me. 

“Mr. Rose is my father.” I replied curtly

“But then that would make you your own father.” Ray puzzled aloud.

“No, Ray.” I started to explain myself, but realized I didn’t have the energy for it. So, I just gave up. “Never mind.”

“Say, Ray. What’s black and white and red all over?” I tried to be nicer — despite my brain still being a mile away.

Ray pondered it for a bit and then shrugged his shoulders. This was our routine. I told a joke, Ray didn’t understand or know the punch line, I answered it and he argued with how that can’t be possible.

“A zebra with chicken pox.” I respond, grabbing the coffee pot to once again refill my cup.

“Would a zebra really get chicken pox though? How would he scratch it?” Ray looked at me long and hard, “I think you read the joke wrong. That’s ok, David. We can’t all be funny.”

I was just about to respond when Jake walked in and gave Ray a nod before he undressed me with his eyes. He always did that, but it never went anywhere — not from lack of trying on my part.

“Wendy wants to see you in her office at 10:30.” Jake told me, his eyes stopped on my lips.

“Did she say why?” I asked.

“Does she ever?” Jake gave his signature grin, swatted my arm, and then left the room once again.

Deciding that was enough human interaction for the day I bid Ray goodbye and I head over to my office. It’s more like a glorified closet space, but Wendy called it an office and so I do too in order to make myself feel better. 

I quickly settled into my desk and booted up my laptop. Once it was up and running one look at my email made my heart sink. There in my inbox say four innocuous emails — all from donors I usually never heard from beyond their RSVP to the charity drive. I didn’t even have to open them to suspect they were about the article. That was why Wendy wanted me in her office. I was gonna get fired today. 

Great just great. I really had become a fucking rich kid cliche. 

I avoided those emails as much as I possibly could for that first hour and a half of my day. There were other things I needed to get lined up for our drive in three weeks that I couldn’t worry about dropped donors right this second. I knew that if I begged her to, my mom would easily hand over a sizable donation, but I didn’t want to. I was doing this all on my own. 

At 10:30 I stood outside Wendy’s office, my heart in my throat. As much as I complained about this job I actually kind of liked it. There wasn’t much passion in me for the charity’s specific cause — earthworms — but I liked the feeling of accomplishment it gave me. And as much as I hate to admit it, I really enjoyed my daily exchanges with Ray and Jake. Even Wendy wasn’t the worst boss I’d ever had.

Wendy ushered me in with a squawky call of my name.

“David! I need a word with you.”

I slunk into her workspace and instantly had to steel my face to prevent my judgment from showing. She had mismatched chairs and trashy throw pillows on her futon in the corner. Just, no.

“As I’m sure you saw, we lost a couple of donors today. They sited your trashy social life as the reason.” She settled her chin onto her hands folded together, elbows on her desk.

“Did they really say trashy? I haven’t gotten to the emails yet, but I saw them in my inbox.” I lean back trying to look all nonchalant and probably failing.

“Actually, I think the Clarkes’s actual words were ‘skanky’. But you get the idea. I can’t let my biggest donors walk out the door, David.”

“I understand. I’ll pack up my things.” I moved to get up but Wendy called me back. 

“Oh you misunderstood me. I can’t possibly win them back. I need you.” Her eyes were big and pleading. So I sat back down.

“But they don’t want me or my “lifestyle”.” I placed air quotes around my final word for emphasis.

“You know David that I have no problem with the gays. I just think for our more conservative donors we should tone it down a bit.” Wendy raised an eyebrow and gave me a look like she was doing me a favor, which she kind of was.

“They got it all wrong.” I weakly tried to protest.

“Don’t tell me. Show them!” She shooed me away without any further elaboration.

I slunk back off to my office. I had just finished out the last reply in my email — none of them to our lost donors — when Ray burst in without knocking.

“Knock knock.” Ray sat down in the chair just inside my door.

“Ray, we talked about this. Saying the words as you walk in isn’t the same as  _ actually _ knocking and being asked to come in.” I dropped my head into my hands. I needed to figure out a way to get our biggest donors back.

“You look stressed. Maybe you should go home.” Ray perkily responded to my obvious frustration.

“I go home and I’m fired, Ray. Unless you have an idea to get back our biggest donors. I’m all ears.”

“Why did they leave?” Ray was putting on his thoughtful face, which could mean he was about to give me a great idea or a terrible one.

“There was a picture of me in front of a club in the papers,” I explained briefly.

“Well, that’s just stupid. Pictures don’t tell a story. Could you maybe tell them the truth?” Ray asked, looking me straight in the eyes.

“Well, that’s the problem. They don’t want to hear from me because of how the picture made me look.” I sighed and leaned away from my desk. This was not going to be solved by Ray.

“Well, then why not make the picture different.” Ray shrugged as if that answer was the most obvious in the world.

Then it clicked. Ray wasn’t wrong. He wasn’t exactly right, but he definitely wasn’t wrong either. 

“Thank you, Ray! You’re a big help.” I jumped up and forcibly pushed Ray out of my office. I then closed my door and returned to my desk.

I pulled up the group text and shot off an SOS.

_ SOS EMERGENCY! Meet at Coffee Project New York at 5:30. _

Everyone responded quickly with assurances that they would be there. With that settled I got back to work on the important things — the fundraiser. 

  
  


I am the first to arrive at Coffee Project at our agreed upon time. I get their biggest table in the back and sit down with a caramel macchiato with some cocoa powder. Mutt arrived soon after — his face covered in a sexy beard and donning grungy clothing, meaning he was undercover this week. Next came Stevie and my sister. We all crowd around the table and I’m about to ask Mutt where Twyla is when he answered my unspoken question.

“Twyla said there was a publishing error on the latest book they are trying to get out to the public so she’s gonna be a bit late.”

I nodded quietly and covered my mug with my hands. I didn’t know where to start with my dilemma, but Stevie ever the one to not mince her words started us off just fine.

“Let me guess, Wendy fired you.” Stevie gave me a teasing smirk.

I sighed and looked down at my hands.

“Oh shit, David. I’m sorry. I wasn’t being serious.” Stevie immediately jumped to apologize. Then I smiled up at her.

“Ew, David! You are awful. How could you scare us like that.” Alexis swatted my arm.

“Sorry, it was too easy.” I smirked and kicked Stevie under the table.

“Ok, so what’s the emergency?” Mutt pulled us all back to the situation at hand.

“So, I didn’t get fired, but we did lose our four biggest donors. Wendy told me I had to fix it as soon as possible.” I started and then paused to take some sips of my coffee.

“David, umm, I love you. And maybe our mom could pitch in some money, but none of us have that kind of dough. Sorry.” Alexis placed her elbows on the table and put one hand under her chin while the other chased my face for a ‘boop’.

“Not what I meant but thanks. I need you guys to help me clean up my image.” I bit the corner of my mouth nervously.

“What are we doing? Making your donors blind?” Stevie cut in abrasively. 

“No, but Ray had a good idea. Well, he planted a seed.” I started, “What if I found myself a steady, respectable relationship. That would make me boring and less likely to be stalked by paparazzi.” 

“Ok, but David we can’t just make a fake boyfriend appear out of thin air.” Alexis waved her arms emphatically. Then she landed them down on Stevie’s shoulder. 

I was happy for them, but I was also kind of jealous. I wanted that — I wanted to be able to trust in someone, I wanted to have that kind of love.

“Actually, that’s what I need. Do you guys have any friends who might be willing to partake in a fake relationship for one night?” I tried putting on a brave face but inside I was panicking.

It is at that moment that Twyla came breezing in. Her face all smiles and papers almost flying out of her hands. I wave her over in the hope that she will have a solution to my problem.

“Hey! What are we talking about?” Twyla sat down and immediately kissed Mutt.

“David’s emergency. He needs a date.” Stevie snarked, I could tell that she was gonna need some convincing.

“A date? Ooo!” Twyla perked up and after years of knowing her I knew she had an idea in that head of hers. Then, it set in exactly who she was thinking of for me to “date.”

I groaned, “not Patrick.”

“Yes, I mean he’s the only other gay person I know.” Twyla looked at me so innocently. 

“But he’s so...” I flail my arm trying to come up with the right words.

“So...” Stevie fixes me with a knowing stare and Alexis swat her arm as if they are in on a secret I’m not privy to.

“Square. The guy probably irons his underwear. He’s so boring.” I finally muttered and I looked around to my friends to discover they all held the same knowing smirk. They knew I’d react this way. Those bastards.

“Patrick is a really nice guy. Just give him a chance.” Twyla smiled at me.

I slumped down in my seat. I knew she was right and as it stood, Patrick was my only option. Then Stevie spoke up with a devilish tone.

“There’s always Jake.” Stevie laughed.

“No.” I shook my head and shot her down automatically. “I’ll stick with Spongebob Squarepants. He’s predictable and safe.”

“Ok, just don’t don’t call him that to his face.” Mutt smiled.

It was decided. I hated my friends. 

  
  
  
  
  
  



	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> David finally meets up with Patrick. And right off the bat there are mixed signals and missteps. Will it be too much?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m going to try my best to update this fic every week. However, my life is crazy busy right now so there are no guarantees.
> 
> Please enjoy and I hope this story continues to entertain!

The idea of having a date with Patrick was sending me into a tailspin. Had my life really been reduced to this, propositioning a guy who hated me just to appease our donors about my “lifestyle”? After Sebastien I thought my world could sink no lower, now here we are. Stevie and Alexis may think this is a good idea, but they’ve never met Patrick. He’s a friend of Twyla’s from high school. And she knows how  _ well _ we get along. How could she do this to me?

I first met Patrick at Twyla’s college graduation party. It was hosted by his parents, because well Twyla’s parents were very flakey. They probably didn’t even realize their daughter went to college much less graduated. That afternoon, Twyla had dragged me over to him excited for her two best friends to meet. I had introduced myself and he had distractedly told me his. He couldn’t even be bothered to look at me. I remember following his gaze and finding it on a fiery redhead with perfect hair. She was definitely sexy, which made him definitely straight. So, imagine my shock when Twyla later told me he had a boyfriend. 

I didn’t see him again after that — mostly because I avoided any social situations he might be at on purpose. I had heard he graduated from law school a couple of years ago and was now a criminal defense attorney. We actually met up again 3 years ago, right after he started his current job, at Twyla’s New Years Eve bash. 

I was still very messed up from Sebastien and drinking everything I could get my hands on. I remember vaguely being so drunk that I was willing to flirt with him. I remember that I managed to get him to come back to my place with me but when I awoke I was still fully dressed and he was gone. Patrick had rejected me and honestly, I didn’t blame him. I was a mess and not worth it. Ever since that night, I tried my best to push him out of my head because clearly we didn’t get on and it wasn’t worth the worry. Only now it was.

I threw myself onto my bed and groaned loudly into my pillow. I was not looking forward to this dinner, mostly because I hated eating publicly with people I didn’t know very well. Dates gave me a level of anxiety I didn’t like to deal with in the slightest. Dinner dates were an even bigger beast. I never knew what to order so I usually ended up getting a salad or something small to avoid the embarrassment of eating too much or being too messy. Only to gorge out on dollar pizza the minute the date was over. 

The restaurant, a place called Blossom, that Patrick had chosen was definitely a bit more upscale than say the Thai place I frequented two times a week. As I glanced over their online menu I started to worry I would order the wrong thing in front of him. What was socially acceptable for a first date, some kind of protein and side or could I get away with a salad. I had almost calmed down enough to be secure in whatever I decided to order in the moment when my phone dinged.

**Hello. David, this is Patrick. I know this is last minute, but I need to cancel our date. I’m stuck at work on a case.**

Even in text the dude sounded like a boring, ironed shirt and pleated slacks wearing square. I shoot off a quick reply, not allowing myself to think about what was happening just yet.

MAYBE WE CAN RESCHEDULE?

Sorry just realized my caps lock was on.

**I’m glad to hear you aren’t yelling at me. Though I wouldn’t blame you. I always stick to my commitments and I never commit if I can’t follow through.**

Dude. Chill. It’s all good.

**How about we do brunch tomorrow instead? I don’t have to be in court until 12:30.**

I can push back my morning meeting and meet you wherever at say, 10:30?

**10:30 sounds doable. There is a place near the courthouse called George’s. Wanna meet there?**

Sure.

**It’s a date ;)**

I refuse to respond to his horrible use of keyboard emojis so I let him have the final word. I quickly look up George’s and my mouth starts to water at the sight of their French Toast. Yes, this change in food option was definitely agreeable to me.

A few minutes later, I was in a tailspin once again. He cancelled our date. He was clearly wanting to back out. I hadn’t even had a chance to ask him my favor and he already wasn’t interested. Who would be? I’m a complete mess and not worth the effort to even fake date. I was just about to text Patrick back and tell him everything was a mistake and that he was off the hook when Twyla’s text came through instead.

_ Patrick just texted me that you guys rescheduled. I just wanted to check in with you. _

**I’m fine.**

_ Translation: you are in crisis and don’t believe you deserve to be given this chance. _

**I don’t know what you are talking about.**

Just then my doorbell buzzed and Twyla replied to me.

_ That’s me. Let me in, please? _

I sighed and trudged past mounds of discarded food containers and unopened junk mail to answer my door. I buzz her up and wait by the door until I see her gentle essence come up the stairwell next to my apartment. Her hair is tied back in a ponytail with a blue ribbon and she’s wearing her business casual work attire — a flowy floral blouse with skinny blue slacks and flats. If she weren’t in a long term relationship with Mutt I would imagine we would’ve tried dating at some point. As it were she’s my gorgeous best friend and with the love of her life. 

The minute she reached me she wrapped me up in her arms and just breathed me in for a minute. This was what I loved most about Twyla. She always knew the right thing to say without even saying a word. When she pulled away she held in her hand a bottle of our favorite wine.

“You truly are the best friend a guy could ask for.” I mutter as I hold the door open for her.

She swept into my apartment and simply moved over one of my piles and sat down on my couch. She was used to my slight lazy streak when it came to cleaning my personal space. 

“I already told Patrick he sucks and that if work was going to take precedence in his life he'd be single forever.” Twyla remarked as I poured us both a cup of wine.

“Wasn’t he dating someone recently? I asked, trying to hide my extreme interest in his social life.

“Patrick and Andrew broke up like 4 months ago. I asked Patrick what happened and he said he thought everything was fine until Andrew left.” Twyla shrugged. She gave me a knowing smirk — which I ignored.

“Not sure he’d know a sign if it slapped him across the face.” I snarked, my mind turning back to New Years Eve all those years ago when he didn’t seem to pick up on my signals.

“No, I suppose not.” Twyla’s voice went all misty and reflective. I knew she agreed with me even if she’d never outwardly stand behind it 100%. 

“What if his work got in the way tonight because he let it?” I asked meekly as I placed my head in her lap.

“Come again?” Her hand found its way to my hair and began to comb it. Twyla is one of the few people I let touch my head.

“What if he let it get in the way of our  _ date _ because it gave him an out. A fair excuse to not help me out.” I let my anxiety bubble to the surface, even though I knew I was being irrational.

“Didn’t he reschedule?!” Twyla was subtly confused but trying to mask it with concern for me.

“He did, but who’s to say he won’t cancel it again. Then we will enter this vicious cycle of making plans and cancelling them until one of us just stops responding.” I wave my hand around above us as if that will somehow prove the validity of my point.

“David, I’m gonna say this because I love you and I think you need to hear it. You do deserve nice things. People do actually like you. Not everything is doomed to fail. Got it?” Twyla pulled me back up into a sitting position and then she laid my head on her shoulder, “I hate what Sebastien said about you, but mostly I hate that by doing it he destroyed my best friend.”

I didn't respond this time. Instead I just sat there and took in all the comfort Twyla was dishing out. She truly was my closest and dearest friend. Yes I adored Stevie, but we weren’t good with feelings and sometimes I need someone who just understands what I need emotionally.

  
  


The next morning I am up at the crack of dawn — not a good look for me. I take the opportunity to use my sleep voice to my advantage to call out of work. I know Wendy isn’t going to care all that much. Honestly, if she could find a way to make earthworms her colleagues she would fire all of us. Not to save money but to avoid awkward human interaction. She has always said that people confuse her with their way of never saying exactly what they mean. It’s why she gives me so many chances. I never beat around the bush, I tell her exactly what I’m thinking at all times. 

Then I take my time getting ready. It’s a process to get my hair to set just right. I’m not as nervous as I had been last night. Twyla spending the night with me helped tremendously. She didn’t sleep over but she stayed until I’d worked out why I was so anxious and helped me to see the logical side of my irrational thoughts. It helped that she told me Patrick was just as anxious as I was about our coming arrangement. I knew we still had a lot to discuss but at least now I wasn’t terrified that he would laugh in my face. Twyla assured me that he’s not that kind of person and he texted me at least 3 times last night to apologize. 

I hopped the subway down to Rector Street and my fate. It was approximately a forty minute subway journey with a transfer at Times Square — something I normally wouldn’t do but I was willing to give a little. I needed Patrick to agree to my terms and if I refused to go below 14th Street he probably wouldn’t. A relationship is about give and take, right? Even fake ones.

Once I got off the N I was met with the view of NYC’s financial district and the One World Trade Center. I knew from my thorough research that George’s was just up the street and I could practically taste the french toast as I began my trek. It was a little windy and more chilled this close to the water, but I just pulled my sweater over my hands, hunched my shoulders against it and walked as quickly as my legs could carry me. Stepping inside the restaurant was like hope was springing new at the exact moment my feet hit the linoleum. I approached the hostess, but before she could ask me how many I saw him.

He was in the back corner. He was dressed in a three piece suit and his hair was fashioned into a styled side part. It was longer than I remember it ever being. It reminded me of Harry Styles during his One Direction days only Patrick’s hair was lighter. As I approached his table he looked up and his eyes alone made my breath catch. Unfortunately, that was when he scowled and checked his watch. 

“You’re late.” He said in greeting and immediately put his hand up to motion for the waitress to come over.

“I’m sorry, the subway was delayed at Union Square. I don’t control public transit.” I sat down and hoped he’d forgive me soon so we could move on to what we were really here for.

“No, David you can’t. But you can control when you leave.” Patrick’s response is short and lipped, “Some of us respect commitments.”

If I wasn’t growing more passed off at him by the minute I would’ve been turned on by how my name sounded on his lips. As it were, he was pushing all the buttons that turned me off.

“Ok. Wow. I guess I should just leave then. Never mind I did  _ you _ a favor by coming down here. My job is on the Upper East Side by the way.” I moved to get back up and leave when he grabbed my hand.

“No, I’m sorry. Twyla says I turn into an asshole when I’m anxious. I guess she’s right. Can we try again?” Patrick looked at me with softer eyes than before and I almost drowned inside them.

I sat back down and glanced at the menu to avoid making eye contact with him. The waitress arrived soon after that. I looked at her and gave my nicest smile, which always won people over. It’s why I was so good at my job. I could charm the pants off anyone. I told her I wanted the strawberry french toast with a side of whipped cream. I also ordered a coffee. I still didn’t look at Patrick even when I heard him order a spinach and egg white omelette — what a health nut. I smirked at my hands to avoid him realizing I was judging him.

“My order amuses you?” Patrick chuckles after she left to place our orders in the kitchen. 

“I just think if you’re gonna eat breakfast you might as well enjoy it.” I dared to look at him. His steely gaze is challenging me to say what I really think of him.

“You think I don’t enjoy a spinach and egg white omelette?” Patrick cocked his eyebrow and leaned back to await my response — his arms crossed along his chest.

“I think you  _ think _ you’re supposed to enjoy that. I bet you probably work out every day too.” I’m not afraid to tell things as I see them, and at this point I’m challenging Patrick to call me out on it. But he didn’t. 

Instead he matched me jab for jab. “So what if I do. There is no law against working out every day.”

“You’re right there isn’t, but people who do are…” I paused before I said something I’d regret or could come back to haunt me if Patrick ever decided to go to the papers.

“Are what? You mean to tell me you’re too scared to be smart with me  _ now _ ?” Patrick was officially goading me and who was I if not to accept his bait?

“Are mindless zombies who give in to the unreasonable pressure to be socially acceptable, i.e. perfect.” I finished and bit my lip waiting for Patrick to get upset or call me out on my bullshit.

Instead he laughed. The guy was just insulted by me and he responded by laughing. After his laughter died down, Patrick pulled what I’m sure he thought was his serious face, but to me I found it to be more juvenile — like his face was making fun of serious people.

“Ok, should we get down to business since I’m expected in court in an hour?” He put down his fork and folded his hands over his crossed arms on the table.

“Sure.” I shoved the last bit of my french toast off to the side and took a nervous breath. 

“So, Twyla mentioned that you need a favor and that we could be mutually beneficial for each other. 

“Yeah. I uhm I need...well that is.” For some reason I was finding it hard to put into words what exactly I needed. It’s like this verbal block had settled in my brain because I was being forced to reveal something about myself, a vulnerability.

“You’d think that the son of  _ THE  _ Moira Rose would be more eloquent.” I knew he was simply teasing and for some reason that put me more at ease.

“You’d think.” I gave him my half smile before I tried again. “Basically my job has this thing coming up. A benefit of sorts, but it’s not a huge benefit. Well it is huge for us but not huge overall. Anyway, there’s this benefit coming up and my image isn’t the best right now. But I’m not what my image presents. It’s just that other people see me like that and my boss doesn’t want me to be that image.”

“Ok, well I’m definitely clear on what it’s not and what you’re not.” Patrick teased again not afraid to let his smile shine through, before he reached over and swiped the last bite of my french toast.

“Basically, I need someone to help me appear quiet and boring. You know ‘safe’ for people who say they’re ‘ok with the gays’ but really they don’t want their homophobia to show.” I wave my arms about to really prove my point, “and then next month my dad has this thing, it’s a rich people thing. Which I despise. And I need someone to come with me so I don’t go crazy from all the fakes.”

“Ahh I see. So when Twyla said you needed a favor what she really meant was you needed a twofer.” Patrick was still smiling at me in a way that teased me and unsettled me.

“A what?” I did a double take to be sure he was serious.

“A twofer. You don’t need one favor, you need two, but under the guise of one.” Patrick shrugged. 

“Ok fine, my little favor is actually a big favor. You don’t have to do either. And if you can only do one I’d greatly appreciate help with my work benefit in three weeks. It’s just one night but it would do me a world of good. I really li—,” my words were cut off mid sentence by the touch of his hand on mine. 

His hands are soft and smooth with a bit of roughness on the palm, just below where his fingers meet the hand. Like he’d played a sport like baseball or hockey or golf most his life. His hand gently squeezed mine and my breath caught. I’d never had this visceral of a reaction to someone, so in a panic I feigned indifference and looked him square in the eyes. 

“I’ll do it. I mean, on one condition.” Patrick’s voice was so quiet, for a moment I believed I’d only imagined it. However, he looked to me for a response in some way and I knew it was real.

“What’s the condition?” I really want him to agree to my proposition, but it seemed he wasn’t going to make it easy on me.

“That you accompany me to my work function. It’s a tired celebration of promotion for a tired colleague, but all of us are expected to attend. My boss knows I’m gay and he deliberately told me to ‘bring my lady friend’ to said dinner. So,” 

I cut him off because this was a condition I was more than willing to abide by. “Sticking it to homophobic assholes? I’m in.”

“He’s not an asshole. He just makes a few comments here and there. I feel showing him I’m 100% serious about who I am might help him to remember.” Patrick recoiled within himself as he made excuses for his boss. 

I had to fight my nature to not volley back at him that was the definition of a homophobic asshole. I wasn’t Patrick’s friend, I didn’t have that right. Hell, I was barely even connected to the guy. I had no idea why my brain wanted to defend the guy already. He was nothing like the type of guys I usually dated so all my impulses weren’t making any sense.

“Anyway, so maybe we should work on getting to know one another a bit better. If we really wanna sell it at these events we can’t just wing it.” Patrick interrupted my inner monologue.

“I haven’t ‘winged it’ since I was 20. How dare you assume I’d do that now.” I gave Patrick a huge smirk to let him know my words held no real weight.

He was just about to respond when a person approached our table. They were clearly there to talk to me and completely ignoring the fact that Patrick was even there. I gave Patrick a shrug and turned my attention to this “fan” so to speak.

“Are you Moira Rose’s son, David?” The girl couldn’t be more than 20 but her energy screamed teenager. 

“I am David yes.” I wasn’t sure where this was going and my hackles were raised. Panic started to set in.

“Oh my gosh! I told my friend over there it was you, but she didn’t believe me and told me to prove it. I just want to say that I read that article that Vogue did on you a few —,” at that moment my brain tuned her out completely.

In my panic I did the one thing I thought would get her to go away. I reached across the table and pulled Patrick into a bruising, sloppy kiss. It wasn’t my most shining achievement but it did get the girl to run away. And, it managed to piss off Patrick. He shoved me back so hard my back made contact with the bench back and knocked the breath out of me for a second.

“What was that?” Patrick asked, wiping the back of his hand across his mouth.

Of course I disgusted him. Of course my kiss repulsed him. I didn’t wait around for Patrick to respond or outwardly reject me and this whole plot. I knew I had screwed everything ten ways to Sunday. So I did the only logical thing I could think of — I ran. That was me, always messing up any good thing that came along in my life. I was now back to square one on ideas to keep me out of the newspapers and in the good favor of our precious donors. 

I needed to come up with a new plan, and fast. I didn’t have much time. The next three weeks would fly by in an instant. I’d be busy with work trying to nail down every last detail of this benefit and in my spare time I’d be agonizing over my image. I couldn’t fail at this. I needed my job.

I didn’t look at my phone again until I was safely back in my apartment almost an hour later. I really expected there to be multiple emails from work to field and a few texts from Wendy to decipher. But the real surprise was the handful of texts from Patrick.

**I don’t know what just happened but we need to talk about it.**

**David. Please?**

**David I’m not mad at you. I just want to understand.**

**You have to understand I don’t kiss people. You kissing me wasn’t the best moment for either of us.**

**Can we please talk about this? I’m headed into court now, but let’s talk tonight at say, 6:30?**

My response to Patrick’s texts was a simple “Ok” even though I know he deserved something more than that. 

I crawled into bed, planning on sleeping this awful day away. Why couldn’t I just be normal for once and not freak out every person I came in contact with?

I knew everything I was currently dealing with was all my fault and what I deserved, but a small part of me wished I could catch a break just this once. Patrick really was the nicest guy I had ever met even if he was super boring and didn’t like me. At least it had seemed to be headed toward a mutual agreement, before I so blatantly violated his personal space. God! What was I thinking?

I must’ve fallen asleep because the next thing I knew my door buzzer was going off and it was dark outside my window. I stumbled out of bed and glanced at my phone to check the time. It was 7:45 pm and I had 3 missed calls from Patrick and one from Twyla. I groaned because I knew they both probably panicked and thought something happened to me. Hence the doorbell.

I yelled at my door — as if my guest could hear all the way from the street — and pressed the speaker on my buzzer box.

“Hello?”

“David! You are okay.” It was Patrick and he sounded worried — which made absolutely no sense. “Can you let me up? It’s cold and we need to talk.”

I buzzed him through and waited anxiously by the door for him to appear. About two minutes later there he was in a rumpled button down dress shirt and wrinkled slacks. If I didn’t know better I would say he’d been anxiously pacing in his suit from court ever since my first missed call.

When he made eye contact with me his mouth moved into a smile of relief. I moved aside and let him enter my apartment before I started to apologize.

“I didn’t mean to miss your call. I fell asleep and I only just woke up. It’s been a long day. You really didn’t have to come all this way.” I rambled off my apology quickly while Patrick looked around for a place to sit. 

“I was worried. I thought maybe you’d had a breakdown or something with how quickly you left this morning.” Patrick nervously shuffled. I strode over to the couch and shoved the papers and food cartons into my hand and motioned for him to sit. Then I walked the trash and such to my bins in the kitchen. When I came back I responded.

“No, I freaked out. I shouldn’t have violated you like that. Like I said, you didn’t have to come all this way.”

“I didn’t mind. Just let’s keep kissing off the table in the future. Also, our next date will definitely be at my place, not yours.” Patrick gave me a cheeky grin and lifted his left eyebrow in question.

“Well, I’m sorry I have a lazy streak in me.” I started to defend my apartment when all of his words caught up to me. “Our next date? You mean you want to move ahead with this?”

“I’m game if you are.” Patrick smiled and my heart fucking melted. All goo, right there in my own front room. 

This god damn square was slowly making me like him. I bit down on my bottom lip to tamper my reaction to him. This was strictly business. No emotions. No mess. Why did I feel like this was going to be much harder than I originally planned? 

  
  



	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> David and Patrick embark on a second date. And make further revelations to each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic is the greatest joy in my life right now. This is the longest chapter to date and I loved every second of writing it. I really hope you guys get a joy out of it as well.

**I made it back home. I just wanted to let you know.**

So as fake boyfriends we are doing this?

**Doing what David?**

Giving location reports. Worrying about the other person making it home. I’m just trying to be sure I understand we are on the same page.

**I mean it is something real boyfriends do. And texting each other allows us to get to know each other better. We will pull this off more smoothly.**

In the name of getting to know each other, can I ask you something?

**No, David I will not be changing my stance on my wardrobe.**

Not what I was going to ask, but on that note. I do think you need to loosen up a bit. You wore a three piece suit to brunch.

**I was going straight to court.**

Oh I know. I just think you didn’t have to wear the _full_ ensemble for some eggs.

**David.**

Patrick. 😏

**What was your real question?**

You said kissing was off the table. Now I understand why you are painfully single.

**I don’t believe I ever said I was painfully single.**

**Besides. I didn’t say I never kiss, just that** **_we_ ** **won’t be kissing at least not on the lips.**

Gonna be hard to sell that to people who are supposed to believe we are dating.

**Kissing is an intimate act that I only do with someone I care about.**

Oh.

So, kissing is off the table. Where do we stand on dick pics?

**If I don’t feel comfortable with an act as intimate as kissing what do you think?**

your loss. I have it on good authority my dick is nice.

***sends picture of Dick Haynes a prominent Texas lawyer*  
  
**

ew Patrick. Why are you sending me a wrinkly old dick?

**We can’t all be young, beautiful dicks David.**

With that I say goodnight. Don’t want you getting too excited.

**I’m not the one with a newly received dick pic.**

**Goodnight David. 😆**

I leaned back against my head board and allowed the smile to go from ear to ear. Patrick was surprisingly funny. Well, two could play at this game. I just had to come up with a few famous Dicks of my own. I pulled out my phone and texted with Twyla for a bit. She knew Patrick better than I did so she’d be able to quell the anxiety that was starting to bubble up now that I was thinking about what Patrick said to me.

**Patrick hates me. I was late for our date and then I forced a kiss on him so now he officially hates me.**

_Sounds to me like you’re spiraling. What exactly did he say?_

**He said that he only kissed people he likes and that** **_we_ ** **weren’t going to be kissing.**

_Maybe he just needs to get to know you before he allows that line to be crossed. Patrick’s been hurt by past relationships._

**And I haven’t? Are we forgetting Sebastien?**

_You have. But Patrick handles it by closing himself off. You handle it by choosing to have just physical relationships not emotional ones._

**Ok Twyla. I’m not sure that was necessary.**

_You’re only upset because it’s true._

A few minutes passed because I didn’t know how to respond to her. Then another text from her came in.

_Oh no! I’m gonna be fired now for sure. Somehow there was a mix up at the printers and my email handle is now the title of our newly signed author’s book. “Best Wishes, Warmest Regards”_

**That’s not a terrible title.**

_It’s a tragic story about a mother who goes crazy with grief when her child is killed._

**Oh.**

_I’m doomed. I’ll talk to you tomorrow. Maybe you can help me find a new job._

**You’re not gonna be fired.**

**Goodnight.**

I tossed my phone onto my bedside table. Tomorrow could only be better than today, right? It just had to be. 

  
  


I woke up the next morning to a text from Patrick.

**Good morning David. See you Saturday at 7pm. My place.**

The next text contained his address. Both texts had been sent at 5:15 am. What kind of unhinged individual was up at that hour? Well, up and functioning, not up and just about to go to bed. That was a whole different kind of beast Patrick most definitely was not. I took a long shower and did my skincare before I decided to give him a response.

Good morning Patrick. You must be a heathen for being up and functioning at 5 am. Most of us don’t get up until a respectable hour.

By respectable I mean after 8 am of course. My work day begins promptly at 9:30. Nothing earlier than 9 am for me.

His reply to me didn’t arrive until I was in my office waiting on my computer to boot up. 

**Some of us have jobs that start closer to 8 am.**

**Besides I go for a run every morning, it raises my endorphins and gets me pumped for the day.**

I smiled at my phone as I replied.

Like I said, heathen.

**Ok. David.**

I could hear his fond eyes through the phone. I needed to put it away and focus on my work. After all, these donors weren’t going to come back to us by themselves. I had to ingratiate myself to them. That meant making phone calls to each one trying to explain the misunderstanding and sell them on my monogamy. 

I was about to call the first of five donors when Ray came into my office. He had a smile that spread from ear to ear as he pranced in like he owned the place.

“Knock, knock.” Ray said as he opened the door and walked inside. 

“Ray, we’ve talked about this.” I muttered. I couldn’t bring myself to look at him yet because then he’d see my annoyance.

“You said I should knock before entering.” Ray shrugged as if saying ‘knock, knock’ easily took the place of actually knocking. 

“You’re right. I did.” I conceded defeat and gave up the fight in me. “Hey Ray I heard a great joke the other day. So a crazy wife looks out her window one day and tells her husband that moose are falling from the sky. Her husband replies ‘it’s reindeer.’”

Ray looked perplexed for a minute before he smiled and said, “but wouldn’t she know if it was rain falling? Moose and rain are totally different.”

I groan and drop my head to my folded arms. Expect Ray to take a funny joke and totally miss the punch line. The man knows how to ruin anything by overthinking it. Just as suddenly, I realized he came into my office for a reason.

“Ray, not that I don’t enjoy your company. But what do you need?” Ray usually brought with him bad news from Wendy or a summons that nobody wanted.

“Oh right.” Ray lit up like a Christmas tree and jumped to his feet. “So, I was thinking you should bring your boyfriend on a date with me and Gwen. Double date! It’d be fun!”

“Who the fuck is Gwen?” I looked at Ray, not quite making the connection on what he was asking.

“Gwen is my date. She used to be married to Bob, but that ended a few years ago so we don’t have to worry about him. Everyone loves Gwen.” Ray rambled, not looking at me to see if I was even slightly following his train of thought.

“Ooookkkkaaaayyyy.” I draw out, thoroughly confused. “But why are we double dating?”

“I just thought it would be fun.” Ray shrugged his shoulders. He started to walk out of my office before he turned as if he just remembered something. “Oh, and Gwen is kind of famous. She makes these videos that are wildly popular. It could be a great opportunity for you.”

Then Ray was gone. I sat there in disbelief. He couldn’t remember his job from day to day or that I didn’t actually have a boyfriend, but he could remember that I needed good press? That man would always be an enigma to me. 

The rest of my day flew by faster than I ever could’ve imagined. In fact, the rest of my week goes that way. I stay busy trying my hardest to mend bridges with the donors and I think I may be making headway with the Schitts, but I can’t be certain. They tell me on Friday that they’d love to meet up for lunch in the coming week to discuss things. I penciled that into my calendar for Monday — to schedule a lunch with them at Heather’s farm to table restaurant pop up in Union Square. After all, the Schitts are also vegetarians so Heather’s vibe will put them in the best mood.

  
  


Pretty soon it was mid-morning on Saturday and I had just gotten out of the shower when my mother called.

“Day-vid!” My mother’s voice had taken on her most dramatic tone, which could only spell trouble for me.

“Hello, mom. Can I help you?” I tried not to be short with her, but I had big plans for today — wallowing in my bed all day trying not to overthink the date at Patrick’s apartment set for that evening. 

“No need to be contumelious, David.” My mother snapped at me. “Now, if you aren’t too busy I’d love it if you’d come spend some time with me today. I need you.”

“Mom.” I brace myself with the backbone of someone who will not cave, despite knowing she’d eventually wear me down. “Do you really need me or is this actually something Jillian could help you with.”

Jillian was my mother’s personal assistant and was a godsend for Alexis and I. She usually kept Moira Rose in check, but apparently today was not going well in that respect. 

“I can’t trust Jillian with the care of my babies!” My mother screeched, “she’s not properly trained!” 

I rubbed my hand down my face. Dammit. Her wigs. Of course, she had trained me in the care of them when I was 17. I suspect for this exact reason, so she could manipulate me to spend time with her. I love my mother but, on a day like today I couldn’t risk being dragged into her hysterics — it would turn into an all day thing and I could potentially end up being late to Patrick’s. 

“Why can’t you ask Alexis? She’s also trained.” I tried in vain to pull myself out of her clutches. 

“David, she is doing things with Stevie today. For their upcoming nuptials. Obviously.” Her voice carried an air of smugness, as if she knew she had me.

“Of course.” I gave a huge sigh because I knew I was doomed to spend the day combing out fake hair. My mother’s real children. She loved Alexis and I but her attention had always been more acutely aware of the condition of her wigs. 

“Okay, I can be there in like an hour.” I gave up on my plans to lay in bed.

“Thank you David.” She hung up the phone and I groaned.

Then I pulled out my phone and texted Alexis and Stevie.

You are both dead to me.

_I take it mom got you._

Don’t act like you didn’t set this up Alexis!

_Look, Stevie and I are busy today._

**Yeah David. So busy.**

Doing what? Each other?

_Ew! David no need to be vulgar._

**Yes. That is exactly our plans. I’d ask if you wanted to join us but that’s not the best idea.**

UGH STEVIE! Eww!

_Babe! EWWWW_

Stevie, you are not off the hook either. My plans for the day have been ruined thank you.

_David, as I’ve said before the Great British Baking Show is not_ **_plans_ ** _._

I’ll have you know I had a date tonight that I’ll most likely have to cancel or be late for.

You know how mom is. Once she has you it’s hard to escape.

**Oh my god! Someone is willingly dating you? Like for more than just sex?**

Ok. I don’t like what you are insinuating. Both of you are cancelled.

_You can’t cancel family, David!_

Oh yeah?! Watch me.

I stopped texting them and resigned myself to my fate for that Saturday. Maybe if I was lucky the wigs wouldn’t be her actual problem. Maybe she really just needed some company. My mother did get lonely easily because her hysterics didn’t lend her to a life with many friends. She had Jillian but that didn’t count because Jillian was being paid. 

I made the trek from the East side to the West. My parents owned an apartment at 73rd and Riverside. It was a quaint little place that was mostly occupied by my mother alone, considering my father travelled a lot for his job. He was not around much. He loved all of us but his job took precedence. I also liked to think he didn’t know how to talk to Alexis or me, especially me, so he stayed away as a method of avoidance. As his son I always felt like a part of him still held onto the dream that someday I would join him in the family business or create one of my own. 

I smiled at Clive, the doorman, as he opened the door for me. I had grown up in this building and Clive had always been there. He was a gentle older man who was always quick to smile. Better yet he adored my mother. He was always willing to do just about anything for her.

“I’m glad you are here today David. She seemed particularly upset this morning when I brought her breakfast delivery to her.” Clive stated. He wasn’t supposed to ever leave his post, but like I said, he loved my mother.

The dread in my gut got only stronger as I moved toward the elevator bay. I was definitely in for a long day. I just needed to be firm with her about leaving by 6 because it would take me a good half hour to forty-five minutes to get to Patrick’s place in Tribeca. I was already on uneven footing with him, having messed up the first date by being late and then kissing him.

I used my key to unlock the door and let myself into my parents’ apartment. The music was blaring and I could hear my mother dramatically sobbing in the bedroom. I reached over and turned off the music before I headed back to where she was. Getting to her room I am assaulted by the presence of not just my mother but my father as well.

“Hello, son.” My dad was sitting on the bed as my mother sobbed into her pillow.

I ignored him and turned to my mother instead. I crawled up in the bed behind her and pulled her into a hug. This was our routine. She’d be upset and I would wrap her up and she’d calm down. Sure enough, within five minutes her sobs had calmed down to just hiccoughs.

“Jilly put Margeret next to Susan and now they are embroiled in a bitter battle of wits. It’s very upsetting, David maybe you could calm them down.”

This was my life. Validating my mother’s belief that her wigs all had personalities was a common thread in my week to week existence. I knew I was in for a long day because Margeret and Susan hated each other and weren’t easily dissuaded.

Sure enough, it took more than four hours before my mother deemed the two wigs calm and back to normal. By this time it was already almost five. As I knew all too well, my mother would drag me into a meal with her and some TV viewing before she would let me go. Unfortunately, my father being there didn’t make escaping any easier.

“David, son. I’m sure your mother told you about my dinner party next month.” My dad tried to engage me once more.

“Don’t worry, I’ll be there. And no I won’t make a fool of myself and embarrass you.” I grumbled and reached for a bagel sitting out on their table.

“That’s not what I was going to say.” His voice came out a bit defeated, which was different but I really didn’t have time to analyze it. I had to make my escape as quickly as possible.

“David. You really should savor each bite. The bagels really are succulent.” My mother sat down across from me and gave me a stern look.

“I wasn’t kidding when I said I had plans today. I have a date down in Tribeca at 7pm. It’s very important I not be late.” I explained around the bites of food I was consuming.

“A date! Oh son that is wonderful!” My father jumped back into the conversation.

“Do you think that wise? Darling, you were telling me the other day you had bad press when you went out. Shouldn’t you wait and let things simmer a bit?” Leave it to my mother to officially kill the mood.

“That was not a date, mom. It was a mistake.” I mumbled, the food now dry in my mouth. 

“Darling, being here is probably the better option for you. I just don’t think your heart can take more of what _that man_ did to you.” She was right. Who said Patrick wouldn’t end up like all my other relationships. Maybe I should just cancel after all.

I pulled out my phone and shot Patrick a text.

I can’t make it tonight. I’m sorry.

He texted me back immediately but I couldn’t respond. It was best to make it a clean break.

**What is going on.**

**David, please talk to me.**

I settled back against my seat and let my mother convince me this was a good idea. We were halfway through an episode of RuPaul’s Drag Race when my phone rang. It was Twyla.

_“David! What the hell is wrong with you. Patrick just called me confused and hurt that you cancelled on him with no explanation.”_

_“Twy, it wouldn’t have worked out. This way we both walk away scot free. No harm. No foul.”_

_“Only, there is harm. Patrick doesn’t put himself out there anymore and he did for you and this is how you treat him? Are you really going to be like this?”_

_“Like I said, it’s better. I’m not worth it.”_

_“Wow! I didn’t realize that my best friend was a quitter. This is a move Sebastien would make.”_

_“How dare you compare me to him.”_

_“If the shoe fits. Fix this!”_

Twyla hung up and I was left with my thoughts and anxieties. I hated that she compared me to Sebastien but she had a point. Sebastien would do this to me. He would cancel all the time with no explanation. I may not be deserving of good things, but Patrick didn’t deserve to be iced out like I was doing to him. 

I glanced at the time — 6:45. I could still make it over to Patrick’s and only be a half hour late or so. I had some apologizing to do and he deserved to hear it all face to face. If I kept this arrangement strictly business I wouldn’t be getting something I didn’t deserve — a decent boyfriend in real life — and he wouldn’t be dumped cold turkey like he didn’t deserve. It would be mutually beneficial for us. I could live with that. Keeping it strictly professional.

I managed to get myself out of my mother’s grasp within 15 minutes of Twyla’s call. I was now going to be an hour late, but I didn’t care. I had to make amends in person. I also had to accept that he could easily slam the door in my face, after all this was my third screw up and it was still our first week. I wouldn’t want to give me another chance either.

That’s how I found myself awkwardly standing on the steps of his brownstone at 7:45. I shuffled my feet and bit my lip. I was quickly losing my nerve, but I knew I had to do this. My future depended on it. Plus it was the right thing to do. I wasn’t a cold-hearted douchebag like Sebastien. I was David Rose, undeserving of love but still willing to give the universe a chance — sometimes.

The doorbell buzzed and the static crackled ominously. I knew he wasn’t going to respond, but then he did. 

“Hello.”

“Patrick, I know I’m late and I know I cancelled, but I’d really like to apologize.” I shoved my hands into my very small pockets as a sharp wind blew, making my too thin sweater feel like not enough.

I don’t hear a response for the longest minute. Just the static proving that he was still on the other end listening in. I wracked my brain trying to figure out what else I could say to make him feel better. 

“Please. I’m a fucking idiot. I love to self-sabotage.” My voice sounded pathetic even to me. But something must’ve clicked with Patrick because I heard the distinctive buzz of being let into the building.

I slowly trudged up to his apartment on the second floor. I knew he had let me inside but that didn’t mean he would be happy to see me. I arrive at his door and he is standing in his doorway waiting.

“I let you in so I could tell this to your face.” Patrick’s face was stern and I knew he was angry, “I am not to be played with. I agreed to this because it would be helpful to the both of us. But, I won’t deal with this one extreme to the next with you. I don’t have time or emotional capacity for that.” 

I understood what he was saying and I agreed. 

“Patrick, I can’t promise I won’t mess up again because I’m a disaster, but I will promise not to break up with you like this ever again. From this moment until your work function we will be professional in our quest to be fake boyfriends. We won’t get sloppy and allow our hearts to get involved.”

“I don’t know, David, you have a sloppy mouth. It’s gonna be impossible for things to not get _sloppy_.” Patrick’s face softened as he teased me and stepped aside, silently allowing me to enter his apartment. 

I step inside and my eyes rake over his front room. There are papers everywhere next to his laptop on the coffee table. Based on the tangle of blankets on the couch it was clear he had been working on lawyer stuff before I arrived. I felt guilty now, I had stopped him from doing his work. Now that I looked more closely at him I noticed that he was wearing a tight, form fitting t-shirt and a pair of jogger sweats. I gulped. His hair was unstyled and my body was definitely reacting to the whole image of him before me.

“I still have the ingredients for dinner if you are hungry and willing to wait a bit. I think we should still take this time to get to know one another.” His voice was nervous, but it pulled me out of my day dreams. 

“Umm. Yeah. Yep. Dinner sounds great.” I knew I sounded a bit deranged but, Patrick just gave a soft smile and directed me to follow him to the kitchen.

I then sat at the kitchen island and watched as Patrick cooked up some kind of Asian vegetable noodle dish. It smelled delicious and my mouth was definitely watering.

“So, why did you cancel?” His question hung in the air as I tried to come up with the best explanation that didn’t make me sound like a total dickbag. 

“Would you forgive me if I said I let my anxiety get the better of me? Also, I was with my mother and she never helps.” I gave him a sincere look that I hoped would only help my case. 

“What do you mean?” Patrick’s question was genuine and his voice was gentle and kind. How was this man real?

“My mother likes to think she is protecting me. So she says things that I believe because deep down I’m already thinking them. I told her I had a date tonight and she convinced me it was safer to go through life alone. That no one would ever understand my needs. That it was too soon after Sebastien.” I shrugged, bit my bottom lip, and stared intensely at my hands.

Patrick crossed the room and placed a gentle hand on top of my hands and used his other hand to lift my head up.

“I don’t know you as well as some people, but I can tell you she is wrong. No one deserves to walk life alone. Least of all you.” 

His words are kind and a bit too much so I stand up and pull away from him. I needed distance, to give myself time to breathe. No one had ever been as kind to me as Patrick just was, especially not after I revealed my disaster side. I took a deep dreading breath and closed my eyes to center my gravity once more. Everything felt woozy. 

Patrick must have realized I needed space because he handed me utensils and nodded toward his small dining table. He had handed me both chopsticks and forks. It made me smile thinking he was someone who could eat with both chopsticks and a fork. The only correct way to eat Asian noodles was with chopsticks, of course.

We didn’t really talk as we ate. I still felt raw and exposed. And Patrick was the kind of guy who gave someone their space. We were on the verge of eating dessert — Patrick had bought a lemon tart for me — when I finally felt cal enough to speak.

“I’m sorry I interrupted your work.” I motioned toward the papers and laptop in the front room. 

Patrick smiled softly and shook his head. “You didn’t interrupt anything. I was just doing research for a case I have going to trial next week. I’m sure I’m well-equipped to make my arguments, but since I had no plans I decided to double check to be sure.” 

“Wow.” I smirked. I wanted to tease him, hoping it would dissipate the awkwardness between us. 

“What?” Patrick’s fork was halfway toward stealing a bite from my lemon tart.

“Why didn’t you just get yourself a lemon tart?” I sniffed out a laugh at Patrick’s behavior. He had done the same thing at brunch the other day.

“I don’t like desserts.” Patrick shrugged slowly, extracting the fork from his mouth and looking blissed out by his one bite.

“Sure.” I knew he was lying, but I wasn’t about to call him out on it. Not after the rollercoaster I’d already put him through this week. No need to further rock the boat.

I looked down at my plate and finished off the last vestiges of my delectable dessert. With nothing else to focus on I started to look around. I wondered what came next. He and I still really needed to get comfortable with each other, but wasn’t the date over? I mean we had eaten our meal. I stood up to take the dishes to the sink and started the process of cleaning them. I loved the calming nature of being around Patrick so I was stalling to prolong our time together. As I washed he dried. 

We were on the last wine glass when he cleared his throat. “Would you like to stay the night?” 

I must have squeaked louder than was socially acceptable. “I’m sorry?! What?!”

Patrick seemed nonplussed. “Well, if we really wanna sell this we should probably have sleepovers sometimes.” He gave a shrug and walked back toward the front room and sat on the couch. 

I followed him and stood awkwardly in the doorway as he got comfortable once more and got back to work. He looked up and tossed me the TV remote.

“I’ll probably stay up another hour or so working. Then we can head to bed.” 

I sat on his other couch that sat caddy corner to the one he occupied. Why the man needed two couches was beyond me. From what I understood about him he was married to his job with barely any friends to answer for it. I didn’t feel comfortable watching TV in front of him or bothering his work with the sound of it so I sat down, tucked my feet under my body and pulled out my phone. I buried myself in my Twitter timeline in order to avoid the feelings stirring in my gut for the man sitting across the room.

After some time I finally looked up and was immediately assaulted by the sight of Patrick working on his legal briefs. While I’d been distracted a pair of glasses had appeared out of thin air and now rest on the bridge of his nose. His hand was gripping his sloppy mess of hair. I had to hold my breath to stop myself from groaning at the mere sight of him. He had to know what his imagery did to people. There was no way Patrick wasn’t aware of how sexy he was in that moment. I looked back down to avoid further embarrassing myself with making my attraction known. I silently willed my dick to behave.

A sigh escaped Patrick and I looked up again. He was stretching and his shirt rode up a bit revealing his well toned stomach. Fuck. I was screwed. 

“I’m gonna head to bed. Bedroom is this way.” He motioned over his shoulder as he gathered up his papers and organized them a bit into one pole by his closed laptop.

“Umm. Ok. I’ll just sleep out here. See you in the morning.” I couldn’t look at him considering I was currently trying to keep my attraction under control.

“Nonsense. My bed is big enough for the both of us. Unless you don’t feel comfortable. Then I could get you a pillow and blanket for in here.” Patrick’s kindness melted my nerves. I could handle a night in bed with him. Right?

“No. That’s ok. We can share. I just need to shower and I don’t have a change of clothes.” I decided I may as well throw all caution to the wind. We could handle ourselves professionally. After all, we were both adults.

Patrick grinned and went over to his dresser and pulled out a plain white tee and some blue flannel bottoms. They were definitely an Old Navy brand which was not my style, but it was better than choosing no pants at all. He directed me to the bathroom and then left me alone to shower.

I took my time under the warm water stream. I didn’t want to risk finishing myself off and him hearing me so I just stood under the water until my heart and breathing had calmed down. Once I had deflated I knew it was safe for me to enter into our shared bed arrangement. By the time I had dried off, washed my face with soap (it wasn’t my usual regiment, but I didn’t have a choice), and got dressed in Patrick’s borrowed pajamas I didn’t hear a sound from his room. He was probably sleeping. 

I stepped out of the bathroom and found that he had indeed already laid down with his back to the center of the bed and the light off. I flicked off the bathroom light and slowly made my way over to his bed. I gently climbed under the covers and lay on my back wondering when I’d be calm enough to sleep. I could hear his every breath and eventually it lulled me to sleep. 


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Patrick and David go on a double date. Chaos and happiness ensues.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I’m a day late on uploading this. I was a bit blocked on this fic over the past week. 
> 
> I would like to thank my ever awesome cheerleaders - T and Lee for making sure I never got too far in my anxieties about this chapter.

**Hello. Sorry it’s been days. This case is killer. How are the earthworms?**

Do you actually care or just being facetious? 

**Well I feel if we are going to sell our relationship at this dinner tomorrow night and then your benefit next week I need to continue to get to know you better.**

So ask me questions about me. Don’t ask about earthworms, which I don’t care at all about.

**Ok for the sake of verisimilitude, what is your deepest desire?**

Going straight for the heart of the matter.   
  


Have you been learning at the feet of Moira Rose?

**No. Why?**

**You still didn’t answer my question.**

Because that language sounds like it comes directly from the horse’s mouth.

**Ok David.**

You’re laughing at me aren’t you?

**No.**

You are. Fine. Black, but I’m a sucker for a good blue on occasion. I can’t survive without coffee. I’m a night owl because mornings are just no. And my proudest moment hasn’t happened yet but I have hope it’s right around the corner.

**Ok. Care to explain?**

All the answers you could possibly need to know about me.

**I may wear blue but I actually love green. Yea is my drug of choice. I drink one cup of it every morning and one before bed every night. The day I got an acquittal for this high profile case was a big deal for me. It’s one of the only times my boss gave me an “atta boy”.**

Well that’s a lot to unpack.

**Verisimilitude David.**

🙄🙄🙄

That’s what I say to your desire to sell the lie. It’s not that deep. Just act like you like me and that’ll be a mile above any of my other dates.

  
  


The next morning I am standing at the coffee pot assessing my life choices when Ray came up behind me and scared me.

“David! Just the man I needed to talk to.” Ray’s overly enthusiastic demeanor was always a bit much but even more so when it was before my first cup of coffee.

I took a deep breath before I turned around and addressed my co-worker directly. I knew there was only one way to get him to go away and that was unfortunately to engage with him.

Even more unfortunate was that Jake arrived in the break room right as I was about to address Ray. Could my day get any worse? Apparently so.

“David, I need to do a quick change of plans. Gwen doesn’t like Cafe Tropical over on the West Side, well because it’s on the West Side. So, tonight she was wondering if we could do dinner at Sfoglia over on Lexington Ave instead?”

“Does it have vegetarian options?” I asked as I poured my coffee. Huh, funny I immediately worried about Patrick’s needs. I’ll have to unpack that much later.

“It’s an Italian place. I’m sure you could get something light if you are worried about the carbs.” Ray dismissed my question in a flippant manner.

“No, I’m not worried. It’s just my boyfriend is a vegetarian.” I figured with Jake present it was safer not to mention the arrangement Ray had helped me cook up.

“You have a boyfriend, David? I do hope you bring him along tonight. Gwen and I would love to meet him.” Ray smiled.

“Ray, the reason I am coming tonight was so we could double date!” My frustration with the man was almost at its peak, but I trudged forward as kindly as I could.

“I would have known if I had invited you  _ and _ your boyfriend. I am not a complete dolt.” Ray chuckled and exchanged a knowing look with Jake.

“Ray.” I pursed my lips and closed my eyes while I took a deep breath. “The whole point of us going out together tonight was to show the donors that I’m not ‘the wrong sort of gay’!”

“Well, why didn’t you say so sooner?” Ray shook his head and then turned to Jake to say, “He really would be lost without me.”

I chose that moment to just walk away because it wasn’t worth losing my cool over.

So, dinner tonight is now at Sfoglia on Lexington. Sorry for last minute notice.

**It’s ok David. I know that restaurant. My boss took us there once for Christmas.**

Well its not okay that Ray can’t remember that you’re my boyfriend and then accuses me of keeping secrets.

***sends a picture of Richard Madden***

**Here have a dick.**

I know you think this is funny, but its not. However, I’ll forgive you just once because he has perfect hair.

**Wow, David I never pegged you as a** ** _Game of Thrones_** **fan.**

I was just about to answer Patrick when I received a call from none other than Roland Schitt -- one of our long lost donors. 

“David. My boy! I wanted to reach out about the nasty business regarding our attendance at the Earthworm Benefit next week.”

“The Another One Bites The Dust Benefit?” I asked as if I didn’t know exactly which benefit he was talking about.

“Yes, quite a clever name. Anyway, Joc and I had a last-minute cancellation on our couples massage retreat so that evening may have cleared up for us after all.”

I had to physically hold back bile at the thought of Roland and Jocelyn Schitt doing a couples massage retreat -- or that one existed in the first place. “Oh, wow. That is great.”

“Yeah, Joc just wanted to meet with you for lunch first to be sure that your organization still vibed with our image.” Roland coughed in such a way I could just tell he was bringing up some unsavory phlegm. I needed to get off the call as soon as possible.

I looked around my desk for inspiration, when my eyes landed on the pamphlet for Heather’s Farm to Table Pop Up. I had researched it as a potential date for Patrick and I the afternoon before the benefit -- one last hurrah before the main event.

“Roland, you know I have just the place. How does tomorrow for lunch sound to you?” I tapped my finger impatiently waiting for the inevitable yes to leave his mouth.

“That should work out just fine.” Roland coughed again.

“Great. Let’s meet at Heather’s Farm to Table Pop Up in Central Park, say around noon.” I held my breath in the hopes that our conversation would soon be over, until tomorrow.

“Sounds delicious.”

I hung up the phone and muttered, “eww.”

Sorry for the delay. I had to deal with one of our donors and now I need to go take a hot shower to wash that conversation away.

But no I am not a  _ Game of Thrones _ person. My sister’s fiancee, Stevie, once tried to get me interested and all I cared about were the hot people. No, I know Madden from  _ Cinderella _ , obviously.

**That bad huh? I figured conversations with rich people would be delightful for you. Nothing like the lowlifes I speak to daily.**

Ok. Clearly you’ve never interacted with Roland and Jocelyn Schitt.

**I’ve never had the pleasure no.**

Oh. My. God. You’ve not heard skeevy until you’ve listened to Roland go on and on about a couples massage retreat. OR listened to him explain his sexual exploits with his wife -- in detail.

**I just threw up in my mouth.**

Welcome to my life.

**So, what did the skeevy Roland want?**

To schedule a lunch date with me tomorrow to discuss their donation. I’ll suffer through it for the sake of my job. But I’m gonna deserve a real juicy pic from you as a reward.

**Okay David.**

Our conversation ended there because Patrick had to meet with a client and I had to get back to organizing our benefit that was now five days away. As I typed up the manifest for Wendy I thought about my latest conversations with Patrick. His frequent reply of “Okay David” was becoming a signature for me. A moment that was special to just me and him. For some reason, it carried more weight than any other time someone had placated me with those two words. “Okay David” was Patrick’s way of being gentle and affectionate without coming out and saying so. I never wanted it to end.

I left the office with just enough time for me to swing by my apartment and change before hopping in a cab to meet Patrick, Ray, and Gwen at our date. I had to catch myself when I caught my first glimpse of Patrick because he was wearing a light purple button-down with a dark violet bow-tie and a charcoal grey vest. The look was stunning and made his eyes really pop. I stepped up to him and quietly whispered words that I instantly regretted.

“This is totally unfair. Your clothes are a distraction I can’t afford to have while I’m trying to make myself seem presentable in public.” My breath fanned hot on his neck and I watched as he ducked his chin.

“David, if I had known you’d be so bothered by my clothes I would’ve chosen my fringed vest instead.” Patrick’s grin told me all I needed to know.

“I don’t know why you think you’re funny because you’re nothing more than a horrible troll.” I stage whispered to Patrick through my plastered smile.

“Careful David, we are supposed to seem as though we enjoy each other’s company.” Patrick breathed into my ear, then he did something that surprised me. He brushed his lips against my neck. 

I pulled back a bit from our side embrace to look him in the eyes. I searched for some kind of sign that what he had done was what I thought it was. Had Patrick really kissed my neck? My mind was running a mile a minute and I could feel the panic settling in. One look in my eyes and Patrick moved his arm from my shoulder and grabbed my hand instead. With a gentle squeeze I found myself letting go of my panic. This dinner was going to be a nightmare, but at least Patrick was there to ground him.

I managed to make it through the appetizer course and part of the main course before my panic settled in my chest again. I didn’t do well with others which is why I was a serial first dater. People got under my skin so easily because I couldn’t trust them. I was doing ok with Ray and Gwen — despite their personalities making me want to gauge my eyes out with a fork. Then Gwen had to start up a conversation that always settled badly in my mind.

“I love coming to this place. It gets me the much needed publicity my YouTube channel needs. The paparazzi can’t wait to get a glimpse of me.”

“I don’t think I’d like that life. Too much at stake,” Patrick mumbled into his salad. 

“It’s really not all bad, Patrick! There are perks to being famous. Like the free wine we are currently drinking.” Ray boisterously responded as he tried to refill Patrick’s glass and missed knocking the glass into my lap. All over my designer Gavinche sweater.

“Ray! Watch what you are doing! This is designer!” I screamed as I stood up and escaped toward the bathroom. I vaguely heard Patrick say something but I didn’t stop to find out. I needed to tamp down on the panic threatening to escape. 

While I stood at the sink in the bathroom, bracing my body against it and taking deep steadying breaths someone else entered. I turned to ask them to kindly leave when the words caught in my throat. I was staring straight into the face of Sebastien. I had hoped I would never see him again, but nope. No such luck.

Without a word I brushed past him to return to my date. He grabbed my arm and stopped me. His words settled sickly in my stomach.

“I saw your picture. Good to know you are still a mess. Now the world knows it.”

I pulled against his grip and made my escape. A few feet from our table I stopped and took what I realized to be my first breath since the bathroom. I wiped away the angry tears that had escaped and moved to sit back down. The main course had been cleared.

“I ordered you some tiramisu. Figured you could use it.” Patrick whispered gently into my ear. 

“As I said while you were gone, Gwen isn’t the only one who loves the paparazzi. David can’t wait to get in the paper!” Ray stated, obviously ambivalent to the situation around him.

I swallowed hard and stared at my hands. I wanted time to speed up and end this date before I said anything too unbecoming.

“Ray, I don’t think,” Patrick started, clearly about to defend me. For some reason that alone crawled deeply under my skin and I lashed out. 

“Don’t act like you don’t love them too,  _ Patrick _ . It’s why you’re with me! You’re just using me to get noticed by them.” I stood up without another word and stalked off toward the exit.

I made it all the way to the door before Patrick caught up to me. I expect him to yell at me or officially dump me, but at most he gave me a disappointed look. Which was somehow much worse. I stepped out of the restaurant and was immediately assaulted by the flash of cameras. Before I had time to adjust, Patrick was there blocking me from view.

We started to move away in tandem when one photographer yelled out words that stopped me in my tracks and created a panic in me so great I just shut down.

“David! How much did your parents have to pay this one to date you? Was it because you knew Sebastien was going to be here tonight?”

I don’t know how it happened but somehow Patrick managed to get us some blocks away from that restaurant. When I finally came back to my senses he had us sitting on a bench in a little park between two high rise apartment buildings. His face is etched with the deepest of concern for me. I’m confused because I have done nothing but act like an ass all night. 

However, here he was sitting with me until I came out of my panic. His hand a warm steady constant on my thigh and his thumb drawing soothing circles on my jeans.

“You okay?” His voice is cracked from the strain of holding back emotion.

I take a few deep breaths and steady myself before I nod, “mhm. I think so.”

Patrick stared at me not saying a word.

“I’m sorry. Tonight was just a string of bad things that compounded and I lashed out at you when I shouldn’t have.” I bite my bottom lip and wait for him to admit he was done now that I was feeling better.

“Wanna talk about it?” Patrick asked in that voice I’d come to associate with his care and compassion for others.

“Not particularly.” I sighed, “but I feel like I owe you that much.”

Patrick just nodded and silently waited for me to continue.

“I don’t have a good relationship with the paparazzi. As I’m sure you gathered. I also don’t have the best relationship with my parents. They love me but feel they always need to bail me out.”

I stopped for a minute and collected my thoughts. My silence must have gone on too long though because Patrick butted in with a question of his own.

“Who’s Sebastien?” His question was innocent enough, but my breath caught in my chest again at just the mention of his name.

“He’s. Umm. He’s my ex. I ran into him in the bathroom right before I stormed out. We haven’t seen each other in 5 years and yet he’s still able to get under my skin.” I started to clasp my hands together so tight my knuckles turned white and then pulled them apart. 

After about the third round of this Patrick placed his hands over mine and stopped my actions. I was spiraling and somehow Patrick knew that. He grabbed me by the cheeks and made me look him straight in the face.

Staring into his eyes the panic began to subside. I was safe and secure in this moment with him. Slowly as if I was dreaming the whole thing, Patrick leaned forward and brushed his lips across mine. He didn’t pull away immediately and so I leaned into the moment and captured his lips. 

After what seemed like hours, possibly even days we pulled apart. My heart was stuttering in my chest. I’d never been kissed like that before in my entire life. There was a gentle kindness and care to this simple act. I usually hate kissing because it doesn’t get you anywhere and eww germs. But dammit if it wasn’t already becoming my favorite act.

I stared at Patrick and watched as his face became unsure. I bit my lip and then trudged ahead, trying to be unafraid of the consequences for what I was about to ask. 

“Regrets?” I stuttered, my eyes not leaving Patrick’s. 

“What? No. I was just thinking.”

“I thought you said you don’t kiss.” I blurted out without thinking.

“I believe the words I had used were, ‘I only kiss people I like.’ Before tonight I wasn’t sure about you.” Patrick faded into a whisper by the end.

“Well I’d like to thank you.” I gave him a small little grin.

“For what?” Patrick’s hands went to his hair and he pulled nervously at those beautiful wavy locks.

“For making this happen for us. All of this. If it were up to me it would’ve stopped before it started because I ruin everything.” I grabbed at the hand closest to me and enveloped it into my own.

“You don’t ruin everything, David.” Patrick’s voice is soft and his gaze is on my lips once more. 

I pull him closer and we lock onto each other again. Right there in his embrace I could easily forget how wrong I actually found his words to be. 

Some time later he pulled us both to our feet and we walked toward the subway. I was headed only a few blocks away while he lived much further away. At the turnstile he placed a hand on my cheek and rubbed his thumb up and down.

“Can we talk more in the morning?”

“Mmm. Yes. Preferably after eight-thirty because I’m not an early morning person.” 

And for the first time I got to hear the soft cadence tinged with teasing as he said, “Okay David.”

Those two simple words carried me all the way to my apartment. My smile never once leaving my face. Shit. I had it bad. 

I pulled out my laptop and called my sister and Twyla on video chatting. Both of them answered almost immediately.

“David. This better be good considering it’s almost 11 and I work in the morning.” Stevie grumbled from her spot next to Alexis. I rolled my eyes as Alexis swatted her arm.

“David, what’s going on?” Twyla leaned closer to the screen. “You look flustered.”

“I saw Sebastien tonight. Made an ass of myself at dinner. Oh and Patrick kissed me.” I quickly muttered hoping to hide at least one of my big items from my friends.

“You saw Sebastien?!” Alexis screeched

“Why is it news you were an ass at dinner?” Stevie chimed in at the same time. 

“PATRICK KISSED YOU???? THATS HUGE!” Twyla’s squeal drowned out everyone else and the conversation turned to the item I had secretly wanted to talk about all along.

“Yeah.” I answered all coyly.

“Umm. David, what were you doing when button kissed you?” Alexis trilled.

“We were just talking.” I shrugged.

“You mean to tell me you were talking and he just leaned in and kissed you? On the lips?” Alexis asked for clarification.

“Yes. God Alexis.” I sighed. 

“David! This is good! It means you are connecting.” Twyla smiled and I knew she was sold that this was no longer fake, but I still wasn’t convinced. 

“I really want to go back to the Sebastien of it all.” Stevie butted in. “Not that you having sweet kisses with your latest boyfriend isn’t adorable.”

“He was at the restaurant Patrick and I went to. He grabbed my arm in the bathroom and told me it was nice to know I was still a mess. Then to make matters worse his presence at the restaurant meant there was also paparazzi. I spazzed out and Patrick got me away from everything.” I shrugged. I didn’t really want to get into the details of what Sebastien’s words were still doing to my psyche, but I knew Stevie would text me later to further hash things out.

“Aww, David! He protected you!” Alexis booped the screen and even though her hand didn’t make physical contact with my nose I flinched as if it had.

“So glad I called you guys.” I muttered in mock annoyance. 

Everyone knew I was actually very thankful to have them to lean on. I loved my friends more than I’d ever be able to express. Even if they teased me about my new relationship and the feelings that come with it.

  
  



	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> David and Patrick get closer. David has to put up with a mess of schitt when he takes the Schitts out for lunch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m back! I’m so sorry. My brain doesn’t want to cooperate from time to time, but such is the nature of grief. It’s a nasty beast every once in a while. 
> 
> However the indelible Lee didn’t ever let me give up nor did she let me put pressure on myself to finish. Her kind words are what finally got me picking up my pen and finishing this chapter. Thank you and enjoy!

I woke up the next morning way earlier than I was ever used to. I knew it was too early based on the lack of sunlight coming in my windows. It was the grey haze that came between night and daybreak. I groaned and grabbed blindly for my phone. 6:30 am.

My mind immediately jumped to Patrick and our kisses the night before. My anxiety jumped into hyperdrive as I started to wonder if everything last night was a mistake. Just as my brain was starting to overwhelm a buzz from my phone alerted me to a text from Patrick.

**Good morning.**

I was expecting him to state more of a purpose for his text. But after 15 minutes and receiving none I held my breath and called him. 

“Hello?” Patrick’s answering voice was laced with a mixture of concern and curiosity.

“David? Are you ok?”

After another moment of silence, I willed myself to finally respond. “Regrets?”

“I—I’m sorry?” Patrick was very confused and I didn’t know if I had enough brain cells awake not to fuck up voicing my fears.

“Do you have regrets?” I uttered, barely above a whisper, as I buried my face into my pillow. “I mean about last night.”

“Nope. I wanted to thank you. Without you —“ Patrick started with an extremely chipper tone that was almost too much this early in the day. He caught himself though and turned the conversation back to me. “Wait. Do you have regrets? Is that why you are calling me before 7 am?”

The concern in his voice brought tears to my eyes. It was more than someone like me deserved. He was too good and I was only going to drag him down with me. I cleared my throat and bit back the sob that was threatening to reveal itself.

“I just — I just worry that I’m too much.” And there it was. My heart was now out on the table, laid bare for him to either hold or crush.

“Never,” Patrick whispered and I felt as if he was laying in bed with me instead of being across town.

“I wish you were here. We haven’t had a sleepover in a while. People might talk.” I abruptly changed the subject. Talking about my fears is too vulnerable of a subject for me to dwell on with anyone outside of Twyla. 

Patrick’s responding laugh tickled my ear and brought an involuntary smile to my face. Even though I knew he couldn’t see me I still bit back my smile into a smirk. 

“Okay, David.” There it was, Patrick’s endearment that wasn’t a nationally recognized endearment.

“Wanna come over to my place tonight? I could cook you dinner.” I offered, silently cringing at my offer. (I knew I would order in and try to pass it off as my own.)

“Of course. We are dating. Though, I wish you’d just admit you are going to order in instead of insisting you know how to cook.” 

“Let’s hope you never meet Stevie. I’d never survive.”

“Oh, now I really need to meet her.” Patrick trolled and I regretted all my life choices in the past month. “Listen, David, I have to go finish getting ready, but I can’t wait to share dinner tonight.”

I sighed as we hung up. I never could’ve imagined enjoying myself while I fake-dated a lawyer of all people. Patrick Brewer was proving himself to be much more than all that. He was a kind and generous person who for some unknown reason insisted that I was good. I just hoped that he would survive another week with me before he realized his mistake and turned tail and ran. 

Part of me wanted to crawl back under the covers and try to sleep some more, but I knew that my brain wouldn’t allow it. Besides, I had lunch with Roland and Jocelyn Schitt to attend today. I needed to be in the best mindset for that which meant a nice long shower to wake me up. I dragged myself out of bed and into the shower before I even had time to argue with myself again. 

The warm water felt fantastic on my skin as I let the spray wash over me. I always loved a good shower before work, but most of the time I woke up with only enough time to do a quick, yet thorough cleaning. Today I could stand under the stream and relax before I began my process. I didn’t know how anyone could prefer a bath to this. Something about the water washing away all the dirt and grime and anxiety while you just stood there and watched it go down the drain was so satisfying. Sure, laying in hot water was relaxing, but the anxiety never goes away because once it’s off your skin you just lay in it for at least a half-hour.

As I stepped out of the shower and wrapped my towel around me my doorbell rang. I buzzed up whoever it was because at the time of day it had to be a delivery of some kind. Sure enough, when I opened the door I found myself face to face with a man holding a rose and order of blueberry waffles from the diner down the block. I fully expected them to be from my sister as an apology for her behavior as of late. So imagine my surprise when the card on the single rose was labeled “PB”.

_ My Rose. Here’s a rose to remind you that you’re more than your name. _

_ PB _

I choked back tears as I waved the delivery man off with a small cash tip. Somehow, Patrick knew I’d still be anxious even after our talk. He was going way above and beyond what our little agreement curtailed and it was beginning to make me wonder if it wasn’t just a little bit more real to him than I had thought. If not, he was ruining me for any other men for the rest of time. 

Patrick. Flowers are tipping the balance of this agreement in your favor. How do I measure up to that?

**They aren’t part of the agreement. Just a gesture from a friend. You are more than who THEY say you are. See you tonight.**

I chose not to respond because his sign-off made it obvious he was busy. I snarfed down the waffles before throwing on my outfit for the day. I needed to make the best impression on Roland and Jocelyn so I chose one of my more tame ensembles. A plain black sweater with slight puffy ribs in horizontal lines. It wasn’t my favorite, but the less flashy with them the better. My job was dependent on it. 

Stepping into work I realized that I needed to approach Ray and apologize for my behavior the previous evening. It was not something I looked forward to, but I armed myself with a joke just in case I needed the distraction. By the time I trudged into work at half-past nine I found Ray holding court with Jake and Sarah — from accounting. They were all laughing at something Ray had said. My blood ran cold and my anxiety heightened worrying it was about me. Then I heard Jake ask what “she did next” and my brain calmed down. I assumed the conversation was centered on Gwen. 

“Ah! David was there he can tell you!” Ray yelled, pulling me into the group just as I was trying to make my escape.

“What?” I was thoroughly confused and I didn’t like not knowing what was going on. 

“I was telling everyone about Gwen’s mishap with the waiter and baked Alaska.” Ray could barely contain his laughter and tears. 

At that moment I realized I had been so wrapped up in my head that I had missed a perfectly funny moment with Ray. I probably would’ve enjoyed myself had I made myself present and available last night. Instead, I made it all about me and ruined everything.

“Honestly, I don’t remember that. I was a bit wrapped up in Patrick in case you forgot.” I lied through my teeth because being teased for being romantic or whatever was better than everyone thought I had treated a woman terribly. 

“Patrick huh?” Jake waggled his eyebrow.

“Oh yes! He’s the perfect gentleman. He seems gone on David here though I’m not sure why.” Ray contemplated. He seemed to have forgotten the initial reason for our conversation. 

I glanced down at my watch and realized I still had so much to do before leaving to meet the Schitts. 

“As charming as this is…” I start and then veer off toward what I want which came as a surprise. “Ray, could you meet me in my office? I need to go over some last-minute stuff for next week.”

Ray followed me to my office and I scrubbed my hand across my already forming headache. Today was going to be the longest day ever. I didn’t know if I could survive until dinner. The one thing keeping me going was the way Patrick’s voice had sounded this morning when he’d said my name. It sent bolts of electricity down my spine in ways that I had never experienced before. 

“What can I help you with? Recommendations for catering?” Ray said enthusiastically.

“No. What?! No. Catering was handled weeks ago. This is actually about last night.” 

Ray looked at me utterly confused. At that moment I wondered if my behavior had even registered with him last night. Did he even know what had happened when Patrick and I had left? Had my words to Patrick throughout dinner stuck to his memory?

“I was a complete dick and treated the whole situation as if it were completely beneath me. That’s not who I am.” I finished strong and waited on Ray to respond. My palms started to sweat for some unknown reason.

“Oh? Because you seemed normal to me. I thought you were that way with everyone.” Ray shrugged, giving me a quizzical look. 

“Are you saying I’m a dick?” I stared down Ray, my eyes almost bugging out of my head.

“Ehh.” Ray shrugged and finally caught my eyes. He quickly made his exit from my office.

I may have discovered that I’m seen as a jackass by my coworkers.

**David. You are a porcupine at best. Calling yourself a jackass is an insult to donkeys.**

Thanks Stevie.

**_Ugh. David. I’ve been telling you for years you need to smile more and be nicer._ **

_ Ignore them. You are prickly but that’s only a front. Maybe try talking to others more. Let them know the real you. _

**_Twyla. The real him is the problem._ **

Alexis? Lick rust.

I put my phone away knowing that the next few texts were gonna be Twyla and Alexis arguing with each other while Stevie tried to mediate. I needed to put my focus back on the task at hand — my lunch with Roland. 

At five minutes to noon, I was standing outside Heather’s waiting for the Schitts to arrive. I sucked in a breath as I heard before I saw them.

“David! Hey, bud!” Roland yelled and waved his arm through the air as if there were a million people between us when there were none.

“Rolly, you didn’t tell me this place was quaint.” Jocelyn's sticky-sweet voice grated against my ears as she leaned into her husband. Before I could say anything their tongues were in each other’s tonsils. 

I squashed that behavior as quickly as possible by clearing my throat, I was not about to watch them devour each other. Eww.

“I don’t mean to push things but we do have a reservation at 12 and it’s five after now.” I put on my fake professional voice.

“Sorry, Dave.” Roland laughed, still hanging onto his wife in a possessively creepy manner.

“Let’s go enjoy some lunch Rolly. I’m sure David has much to share with us about this year’s benefit.” Jocelyn smiled and winked at me. I shuddered at the prospect of having to share a meal with these two.

The Schitts weren’t awful people per se. They just tended to be overly affectionate in public and more than willing to share intimate details of their personal lives with anyone who would listen. And they had the audacity to think my misconstrued behavior was inappropriate. Incorrect.

We all placed our orders and then I realized I could hold off the conversation no longer. 

“So, your retreat was canceled? What a shame!” I tried to start the conversation on a topic they’d be more than happy to talk about. 

“I was looking forward to communing with others as well as nature. A week-long trip in the forests of Upstate New York with like-minded, free-spirited individuals. You have no idea how life-affirming that is.” Jocelyn smiled wistfully as she spoke about it. 

“Joc is especially flexible when she has become one with nature,” Roland exclaimed proudly as I swallowed back the bile in my throat.

“I can only imagine,” I muttered looking very intensely at the bowl of nuts on the table for us to snack on while waiting for our meals. 

“David, have you ever tried to just let go and allow the Earth spirit to take over? I can only imagine it having a positive effect on your life. Better than the drugs and alcohol that is.” Jocelyn reached across the table to hold my hand in an attempt at being concerned.

“I am completely at one with my inner spirit and that’s good enough for me. However, if I ever have a change of mind I will reach out.” I responded giving her what I hoped was a genuinely interested gaze.

“Since we can’t be in nature, Joc thought a fantastic alternative would be to continue our support of saving one of nature’s most important organisms.” Roland gave a toothy grin before greedily diving into his meal that had just arrived.

“That makes us very happy. We always appreciate each and every donor. Especially those who are as devoted to earthworms as we are. This year’s benefit is bound to blow you away. We’ve --” I started to explain this year’s points of interest when I was rudely interrupted by Roland.

“Part of our agreement to attend the gala this year is that we are allowed to bring some earthworms to donate to your cause.” Roland slurped a noodle into his mouth noisily. 

“Oh, that’s not necessary.” I stumbled over my words, not exactly sure how to respond.

“Rolly! He’s speechless at our generosity!” Jocelyn exclaimed with a huge smile on her face. 

I wanted so badly to throw my head into my hands in frustration, but I knew we desperately needed their contribution this year. So, instead, I sat there quietly absorbing all that they had to offer by way of conversation. We finished our meals and Roland asked about dessert but I staved them off by feigning urgent work back at the office.

As soon as I was back on the subway headed toward the office I shot off a text to Patrick.

Please put me out of my misery.

***picture of a carton of Orange Juice***

Umm. What is this? Is this your idea of a thirst text?

Because it is completely misplaced in the current conversation.

**Nope. You said yesterday you’d need a juicy pic from me as penance for lunch with Roland Schitt.**

Not what I meant.

**Well next time be more specific.**

I know you think I’m laughing but I’m not. Plus you’re lucky I didn’t have a friend over last night or this morning’s surprise would’ve been my downfall.

**Oh, you wound me, David. I thought we were exclusive.**

I meant an actual friend not a “friend”. 🙄

**Why are you so scared of nice things?**

Because they are wasted time and only sour in the end.

**Oh.**

**Well, I have to go meet with my latest client, but I’ll see you for dinner.**

By the time I made it back to my apartment a few hours later, Patrick’s words about nice things sat in my stomach like lead. Who was he to think that I deserved more than I was currently receiving? The whole point of our arrangement was to keep ourselves in good faith at our jobs not to actually care about each other. Feelings were not part of the package. I needed to put a damper on my lusty thoughts before they presented themselves to Patrick.

I also needed to remind him that his heart had no place in the conversation of me and him. Feelings just made things messy and complicated in a few weeks when we ultimately go our separate ways. I pull up my UberEats app and go about ordering some Italian for the two of us. I order enough that we can share if need be. One order of eggplant parmesan, fried mozzarella sticks, vegetable lasagna, and salad later I began to nervously pace the floor.

When Patrick buzzed my door almost an hour later I was already two glasses into a new bottle of wine. He smiled and held up my food order with a teasing look. 

“Wow, David. You shouldn’t have. You cooked and then faked a delivery just for me?” Patrick laughed as I let him into my apartment.

“Jerk,” I mumbled under my breath despite being unable to fight off the smile forming. 

“Under that gruff exterior, you actually love me.” Patrick threw over his shoulder as he made his way into the kitchen as if he owned the place. I was dumbfounded at his words and found myself stuck right inside the door.

Patrick must’ve realized that I hadn’t followed him because suddenly he was back to standing in front of me. 

“You do realize I was joking right?” Patrick used the soft voice I think he reserved only for me during serious moments. 

I still couldn’t find my voice and Patrick was starting to look at me with extreme concern. He was about to reach for my cheek when I came back to life and jumped away from his touch.

“We need to tap the breaks. This is becoming too intense.” I waved my arms around anxiously and started to pace.

“You invited me over. Remember?” I could tell that Patrick was trying to reign in his emotions. I really wished he wouldn’t. Maybe if he got angry I wouldn’t feel like the walls were caving in. 

Angry was an emotion I could handle. It was something I was used to. People I dated always felt like I was too much and became exasperated with me very quickly. 

“I mean as a whole. You are acting as though all of this is real, even when people aren’t watching.” I couldn’t bring myself to look at Patrick. My words hung in the air cold and lifeless.

Then Patrick ducked his head and shoved his hands into his pocket. “I’m sorry.”

“My last boyfriend told me I was too suffocating when we broke up. I guess I’m doing that to you too.” Patrick shrugged and moved quietly over to my couch.

I suddenly regretted making a big deal of his goodwill gestures. While they made me uncomfortable because of my past, that was nothing on the dejected look that now graced the ever happy Patrick’s face. It freaked me out way more than his rose and breakfast had. 

“How about we compromise?” I took a deep breath as I sat down next to him. “No more gifts but the physical displays are more than welcome.”

Patrick’s responding smile is tentative, but I know that my compromise has won him over. I slowly reached over and pulled him into a hug.

“If you tell anyone I did this you best have a grave ready.” I tried to be intimidating but I know that with my current position it held no weight.

“Okay, David.” Patrick chuckled and tucked my head under his chin. We stayed like that for a while. But then my stomach growled and Italian food should never go to waste.

We shared our meal at a leisurely pace while watching  _ The Great British Bake-Off _ . I was jealous of these bakers because anytime they wanted a sweet dish they could just make it. I had to find the perfect restaurant and then order it and wait for it.

“I wish I could make my own lemon tarts.” I mumbled into Patrick’s chest. After finishing our food I had unconsciously moved against him to snuggle in close.

“I have faith that if you tried you could do it. It’s just following a recipe.” Patrick whispered as his hand found my hair and started to tangle fingers into the thick billows of my dark locks.

“Excuse me. You know there is more than just technical work involved in baking. And I quote, ‘I tried to bake once but the recipe didn’t help me. There must’ve been something missing because it didn’t come out quite right.’” I turned a bit so I could look up into his eyes.

“How do you remember that but struggle to remember your own grocery list?”

“It was one time! I knew I never should’ve told you that story!” I lifted myself off of him completely just so I could land a light slap to his chest.

Patrick’s responding laugh was the best sound in the world. If I could bottle it up I’d probably make millions. It just has that natural effect of pulling you down into it’s joy. 

After dinner was finished Patrick went into my bathroom to change into more casual clothes. I got Netflix queued up thinking we could share a movie together before going to bed. This meant that I was otherwise occupied when he returned from his activities. When I turned to face him I almost dropped the glass of wine I was still holding. Nestled on his nose were his horn rimmed glasses. Fuck. I was screwed. He was practically screaming sex without even realizing it. 

I must’ve looked like the blubbering frog I felt like because Patrick raised his eyebrow at me, perplexed.

“Is there something on my face?” He asked genuinely worried.

I almost choked on my tongue trying to answer him without revealing my lusty thoughts. 

“I...um…” I coughed before continuing. “Yeah, you four eyed freak!” I pointed to his frames and chuckled. I think I succeeded at knocking him off my scent because he smirked and then plopped on my couch.

I silently willed my dick to behavior at the sight of him in blue flannels and a skin tight Heather grey tee. His biceps weren’t large by any means but they were still bursting out of the sleeves. I tamped down on my lip to prevent a sigh or a moan from escaping. (I hadn’t decided which I wanted to do more)

I couldn’t even bring myself to sit on the same couch as him this time. Instead I found a chair and sat on it. I couldn’t touch him right now for fear I wouldn’t let go. I knew it was only a matter of time before Patrick noticed and commented on it. Sure enough moments after I clicked on a movie, we’d both talked about wanting to watch, Patrick looked at me with overwhelming concern.

“Was I being too much again?” Patrick’s voice was so small I had to jump across the room and wrap my arms around him. 

“No, I’m sorry. I was worried I was being too much.” I pulled myself off him and sat myself at the opposite end of the couch.

“What does that even mean.” Patrick asked, but I didn’t respond. It was better left unexplained.

The movie ended up having us in stitches and I realized that Patrick’s laugh was starting to rank high up there on sounds I loved more than life. I stifled a yawn, but I knew we both needed to sleep soon or we’d be ragged the next day. I motioned toward the back of my apartment. 

“My room is through there. It’s the last door at the end of the hall. Just get settled. I have a 9 step skin regimen to do first.” I didn’t wait around to see if he was gonna move. 

I was more than happy to shut and lock the bathroom door once I reached the sanctuary. It had been tough to be that close to him and not kiss him. I wasn’t really sure yet where we stood on that. This was weird for me. My history clearly dictated that I was to wine, dine, dick, and then ditch. No emotional attachments. So then why wasn’t my heart sticking to the clear cut plan of  _ fake _ dating Patrick?

I normally took about a half hour to complete my process, but I knew that tonight I had taken closer to 45 minutes. By the time I left the bathroom I fully expected Patrick to be asleep already. Instead I found him thumbing through the art book I had on my bedside table. He still had his glasses on and um how dare he?

“That should be illegal.” I quipped as I climbed into bed. I was grateful that he seemed to have figured out exactly which side I slept on normally. 

“What? A 9 step skin regimen?” Patrick smirked at me as if he knew what I’d really been referencing and wanted to shit with me.

“You joke now but imagine me in two months if I quit cold turkey,” I warned him. 

“I’m sure you’d still look beautiful David.” Patrick replied before he placed the book back on the bedside table. Then what do you think he did? He rolled over and signaled to me he was done talking for the night. 

Did he really expect me to sleep after he so casually dropped that bomb on me? How could I? Patrick full on admitted he thought I was beautiful. 

With a huff I turned the light off and went to sleep as well. And if we woke up in the predawn of morning wrapped up in each other’s arms then what of it. Patrick managed to extract himself from my arms at around 6am and with a light kiss to the top of my head a half hour later he was gone. That of course woke me up and sent my anxiety into hyperdrive.

He was going to leave me. It may be fake dating but it’s a real contract and he was about to permanently break it. He wanted out so he was just going to leave in the night, never to be heard from again. I needed to be proactive and avoid that fate. 

I needed a plan. 

  
  


A few hours later I was standing inside Heather’s Farm to Table waiting patiently for a food order I had no idea I’d actually enjoy until I had it the other day. I was nervously biting my lip hoping my plan wouldn’t blow up in my face. It was all contingent on Patrick being available. If he wasn’t then this was all for nought. 

She handed over my bag of food and gave me a huge smile. I heard her ask me to come again and I silently replied with a hope not. Because while the food is good I am still very much a meat kind of guy.

It took me another half hour to get to the building that housed Patrick’s law firm on the 8th floor. I wasn’t expecting there to be a front desk secretary but I knew how to charm the worst of people so within minutes I had gotten past her. I could practically taste the excitement within me that was mounting at the prospect of seeing him in his element.

I came up to his office and I slowed down when I heard heated voices within. I wanted to give him his privacy but I couldn’t help overhear a few words that were being thrown at him. I assumed the guy yelling was his boss but I couldn’t be sure.

“Fix this...pansy ass...fired...faggot.” The man yelling was getting more and more unnecessary with his language as he went along. 

I threw a look and a head shuffle toward his secretary just outside the door and she nodded her head vigorously giving me permission to enter his office. 

“Hey, babe. I figured I’d bring lunch to you today since you were so busy you missed our weekly lunch date.” I swept into the room and planted a kiss on Patrick’s stunned cheek. Even though I couldn’t be 100% sure, my gut was telling me it was the best move I’d ever made.

The yelling man quickly made his exit but not before he threw a disgusted look our way. Once we were both sure he was gone I watched as Patrick visibly relaxed. He swiftly moved to lock his door and then collapsed down onto the futon in the corner. 

“Fuck. How did you know I needed that? I was seconds away from quitting.” Patrick’s eyes look at me with adoration and earnest wrapped into one.

“I was going on a hunch with the lunch but then I got here and heard him yelling. I don’t know but my body jumped into action and came up with that ruse.” I shrugged as if I didn’t already know how huge my gesture had been.

“Well, thank you.” Patrick sat up and made grabby hands for the food. I wasn’t that hungry anymore so I gave him first pick.

“Don’t mention it.” I gave him a look. “No seriously don’t. I wasn’t here. I’m not the enacter of romantic gestures.” 

Patrick just smiled into his vegetable lasagna and replied, “Okay David.”

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> I live and breathe for kudos and comments. Both of which keep me going in this wacky world of writing.


End file.
